He turned from her as if to avoid her eyes, and her voice grew more piteous as she crept close to him and stood with her hand raised to lay it upon his arm, but dreading to touch him again after his cold rebuff. "I tell you, dear, I did not know then--I believed you cared for Edie." "I? Never!" he cried, turning to her for the moment. "Why do you revive all that?" "Because you are so cruel to me--so cold, Malcolm, I must speak now. You have made me reckless--ready to brave the whole world's contempt, my father's anger, for the sake of him who first taught me what it was to love. I tell you I must speak now, and I come to you humble and suppliant--the woman you would have made your wife. It was too cruel, but I forgive you, dear. Let all that be as if it had never happened." He groaned, and covered his face with his hands. "Speak to me, dearest," she murmured; and, emboldened by his sorrowful manner, she clasped one of his arms with both her hands, and laid her cheek against it as she spoke. "Speak to me and tell me, too, that you forgive me all that sad time of my life. I tell you again I never loved him. Our marriage was the merest form, and I came back from the church wishing that my last hour had come. I know now; you need not tell me, dear--you shrank from me at the last; but you did not know my heart, Malcolm--you could not see how its every pulsation was for you. I lay it bare before you now, Malcolm--husband. I claim you, dear. I cannot live on like this, my own, my own." She had crept closer and closer as she spoke, her hands had risen to his shoulder, and, after trembling there for a few moments, they clasped his neck, and she buried her face in his breast, sobbing as if her heart would break. Then her tears seemed to freeze in their source, and she shrank away horrified and chilled by his manner; for he thrust her from him with an angry gesture, and his face was convulsed as he made as if to rush from the room. But he turned back to her, and she sank upon her knees before him. "Malcolm," she said gently, "am I so loathsome in your sight?" "No, no," he groaned, and he tore at his throat as if something choked him. "For Heaven's sake, go. Myra, I am not master of my actions. If you stay I shall forget all but that you are here." She started to her feet in horror and alarm at his words, and his looks seemed to endorse their truth, but a calm smile came upon her lips, and she went to him again. "I know," she said tenderly. "They have told me all that. You have been ill and delirious. Well, who should be your nurse and comforter? Malcolm--come to me again. My father will listen to my prayers, and all the past shall be forgotten. Take me with you away somewhere till you are well again. Only tell me now that you have forgiven me--that I am to be your wife, Malcolm--my own." A spasm of horror convulsed his face again, and he shrank from her when she would have once more laid her head upon his breast.