She felt his hand seek hers. She made no move to resist him. She could not. Something in the break of his voice, the reverence in his touch, sought and subdued her. In a moment she learned that the love of a life had come and that all else was as nothing. “Barbara! Barbara!” he was saying. “Look at me, _chérie_. Tell me that you are not angry. I have tried so hard to leave you--so hard. I have spoken to you bitterly and coldly, that your mind might be poisoned and frozen against me, that you might hate and despise me for the unworthy thing that I am. Alas! it is my own heart that I have pierced and broken. Look up at me, Barbara. I cannot bear to see you thus. Ah, if you had only opposed me in anger, I could have continued the deception. Your anger was my refuge. It was the only thing that made my cruelty possible. It cried aloud like a naked sword. I welcomed it, and set steel upon steel that I might shield my heart. But now, listless, yielding, submissive, you disarm me, you rob me of my only weapon. I am yours. Do with me what you will.” His voice trembled, and he bent his head upon her hand to hide the excess of his emotion. As she felt the touch of his lips, she started and moved ever so slightly, but with no effort to withdraw. When he lifted his head it was to meet eyes that wavered and looked away. “Do not turn from me, Barbara. Do not add to the deep measure of my contrition. The cup is full. Add to it but one drop and it will overflow. Requite me with tenderness, madame, if you can find it in your heart, for mine is very near to breaking. Look in my eyes, where my love glows like a beacon. Listen, and you will hear it speak in my voice like a young god. Can you not feel my very finger-tips singing into your palms the cadences of my heart’s chorus? Is it not thus that women wish to be loved? Search my heart as you will, you’ll find an answer there to every wish and every prayer.”