The sad, tender words, poignant with regret and infinite beseeching, clamoured against his heart, and as the last note trembled into silence, he turned and made his way blindly out of the room. CHAPTER XXIX SACRIFICE "_Did you mean it?_" Errington's voice broke harshly through the silence of the little anteroom where Diana waited alone. It had a curious, cracked sound, and his breath laboured like that of a man who has run himself out. For a moment she kept her face hidden, trying to steady herself, but at last she turned towards him, and in her eyes was a soft shining--a strange, sweet fire. "Max!" The whispered name was hardly audible; tremulous and wistful it seemed to creep across the room. But he heard it. In a moment his arms were round her, and he had gathered her close against his heart. And so they remained for a space, neither speaking. Presently Diana lifted her head. "Max, it was because I loved you so that I was so hard and bitter--only because I loved you so." "I know," was all he said. And he kissed her hair. "Do you?"--wistfully. "I wonder if--if a man can understand how a woman can be so cruel to what she loves?" And as he had no answer to this (since, after all, a man cannot be expected to understand all--or even very much--that a woman does), he kissed her lips. She crept a little nearer to him. "Max! Do you still care for me--like that?" There was wonder and thanksgiving in her voice. "Oh, my dear, I'm down in the dust at your feet--I've failed you utterly, wronged you every way. Even if you forgive me, I shall never forgive myself. But I'm--all yours, Max." With a sudden jealous movement he folded her more closely in his arms. "Let me have a few moments of this," he muttered, a little breathlessly. "A few moments of thinking you have come back to me." "But I _have_ come back to you!" Her eyes grew wide and startled with a sudden, desperate apprehension. "You won't send me away again--not now?" His face twisted with pain. "Beloved, I must! God knows how hard it will be--but there is no other way." "No other way?" She broke from his arms, searching his face with her frightened eyes. "What do you mean? . . . _What do you mean_? Don't you--care--any longer?" He smiled, as a man may who is asked whether the sun will rise to-morrow. "Not that, beloved. Never that. I've always cared, and I shall go on caring through this world and into the next--even though, after to-night, we may never be together again." "Never--together again?" She clung to him. "Oh, why do you say such things? I can't--I can't live without you now. Max, I'm sorry--_sorry_! I've been punished enough--don't punish me any more by sending me away from you." "Punish you! Heart's dearest, there has never been any thought of punishment in my mind. Heaven knows, I've reproached myself bitterly enough for all the misery I've brought on you." "Then why--why do you talk of sending me away?"