"If you do love me, and I know you do," he said brokenly, "never speak to me about that again. You've forgiven it--you forgive everything--but I never shall forgive myself, or feel that I can atone, for what I meant--for that one moment--to do, as long as I live. On Christmas night, when there was no evil in my heart, you thought you saw it there, because your trust had been betrayed before; I vowed then that I would teach you at least that I was worthy of your confidence, and that most men were; and when I had taught you, not only to trust me, but to love me, so that you saw no evil even when it existed--I very nearly betrayed you. It wasn't my strength that saved us _both_--it was your wonderful love and faith. There's no desire in the world that would profane such an altar of holiness as you unveiled before me that night." He lifted her soft dress, and kissed the hem of her skirt. "I haven't forgiven myself about--what happened before I knew you, either," he whispered; "you're wrong there. I used those arguments, once, myself, but I can't any more. We'll teach--_our son_--better, won't we, so that he'll have a cleaner heritage to offer his wife than I've got for mine--but he won't love her any more. Now, darling, go back to the house, and get some rest, if you can, but before you go to sleep, pray for me--that when Edith doesn't need you any more--I may have you for my own. And now, please, leave me--I've got to be alone--" "Dat," said a voice out of the darkness, "is just vat she must nod do." Austin sprang to his feet. It was too dark to see more than a few feet. But there could be no doubt that the speaker was very near, and the accent was unmistakable. Austin's voice was heavy with anger. "_Eavesdropping, Peter_?" "No--pardon, missus; pardon, Mr. Gray. Frieda is sick. I been lookin' ev'ywhere for Mr. Gray to tell him. At last I hear him speak out here, I come to find. Then I overhear--I cannot help it. I try--vat you say--interrupt--it vas my vish. Beliefe me, please. But somet'ing hold me--here." He put his hand to his throat. "I could not. I ver' sorry. But as it is so I haf heard--I haf also some few words to speak. "Dere vas vonce a grade lady," he said, coming up closer to them, "who vas so good, and so lofly, and so sveet, that no vone who saw her could help lofing her; and she vas glad to help ev'y vone, and gif to ev'y vone, and she vas so rich and vise dat she could help and gif a great deal. "And dere vas a poor boy who vas stupid and homely and poor, and he did nodings for any vone. But it happened vone time dat dis boy t'ought dat he and the grade lady could help the same person. So he vent to her and say--but ve'r respectful, like he alvays felt to her, 'Dis is my turn. Please, missus, let me haf it.'" "What do you mean, Peter?" asked Sylvia gently.