“Then you have never had a line from me till to-day?” she cried, backing towards the wall and looking at him with dilated eyes. “Never, since I left Cannes.” “Then oh, Regy, _what_ must you have thought of me?” “Just what I have been asking myself, _what_ can you have thought of me? No wonder you called me harsh, cruel, and tyrannical; such names were too mild a term for me. What an unmanly, vindictive wretch I must have appeared! And you, you richly deserve the name of the ‘patient Grizzel.’ Don’t you think so?” drawing her towards him by both hands. “Come, tell me what you thought of me for never answering your letter.” Too overwhelmed to speak, she stood dumb before him, with both her little trembling hands in his. “You can’t think,” he went on, “how I hoped and hoped for even one line, after that Cheetapore affair had been cleared up. Surely then I learnt that ‘hope deferred maketh the heart sick.’” Seeing the ready tears in Alice’s eyes he stopped. “Why, you little goose, you are never going to cry _now_, are you? It was not your fault I did not get your letter. I have it safe now, and I am the happiest man in England this instant; that is to say,” lowering his voice almost to a whisper, “if you will forgive me, Alice, and if you love me still?” “Forgive you!” she echoed, speaking with an effort, “it is for you to forgive _me_. Do forgive me,” she pleaded, with lovely beseeching eyes; “it cost me more than _you_. My punishment seemed at times greater than I could bear.” At the mere recollection of what she had endured, two large tears that could no longer be suppressed escaped from her eyelashes, and rolled down her pale cheeks. “My Alice, my love, you were forgiven long, long ago; only it seemed to me, till now, that you did not want my forgiveness. You would not speak, and I could not; I tied my hands most effectually that day on Southsea pier. And, after all, Alice, you would not have respected me if I had not required some apology, or if I had tendered you a forgiveness you had never asked for, after the way you broke up our home and turned me adrift. No, my darling,” in answer to a piteous look, “I am not scolding you. I never, never will be rough or rude to you again, if you will promise to forgive me for the barbarous way I have treated you lately. When I think of the thousand-and-one rudenesses I’ve been guilty of--intentionally too--I feel that I am asking a great deal. If I had only your capacity for blushing, you would see how thoroughly ashamed I feel. Am I to be forgiven?” leaning towards her. “Of course you are.” “And,” speaking still more earnestly, “you like me a little in spite of all?” A deep blush was his only answer for some seconds; then, with an effort, she raised her truthful eyes to his, and said: