“Please take your hand down from your eyes; please don’t mind looking at me.” He dropped the hand heavily on the table, with some inarticulate protest. “Please don’t mind looking at me. I want to say—I came here to say—it is all wrong to act as if everything were all your fault, as if you were all to blame. I’ve been thinking, thinking, thinking, all day long. If I had done what was right, none of this would have happened. It was my fault too.” “No!” said Lawson roughly. “Yes.” She stopped, and repeated solemnly: “It was my fault too. They are sending you away now because—because you had been making love to me. But I let you”—her locked fingers twisted and untwisted as she talked—“I _wanted_ you to, when I knew it was wrong, when I didn’t really love you. That was why you couldn’t respect me. If I had been quite high and good, you would not have—none of this would have happened.” “Oh!” said Lawson; the old bitter, mocking smile flickered back to his lips. “Really, don’t you think you’re setting too much value even on _your_ influence? I assure you, you can have quite a clear conscience in that regard.” She went on, with no attention to what he had been saying beyond the fact that her pale cheek seemed to whiten and her gaze was fixed the more solemnly on his. “I couldn’t be satisfied until I had thought out the truth. There is nothing that satisfies but the truth.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “If it cuts your heart in two, you’ve got to bear it—and be glad—because it’s the truth. I know now that, after all, I didn’t help you; I _hindered_. That’s all the more reason for me to stand by you now. And I came to say,”—she took his hand and laid her cold cheek upon it,—“if you go away—take me with you! I have enough money to go too. If you have to work, I’ll work; if you are hungry, I’ll be hungry. There is no one to love you but me, and I _will_. I said I would believe in you, and I will believe in you—as I promised—always.” “My God!” said Lawson. He tore his hand from her, and flung his head upon his folded arms on the table, breaking into great, voiceless sobs that shook him from head to foot. Half-inarticulate words fell from him: “Don’t touch me—don’t come near me!” At last he turned, and, gathering up a fold of her gown, kissed it again and again. His passion raised a faint stir of the old thrill that came from she knew not where, except that his presence inevitably called it forth.