His handsome face whitened and his glance sought hers, full of remorse and pain as he cried: “Annette, there is but one word I can say to you all my life long hereafter, and that is, ‘Forgive! forgive!’” “And you would say it in vain!” she breathed stormily. “Do you think I can forgive you that you tried to kill me? Or, if I could forgive that, since I was fortunate enough to escape your murderous fury, could I forgive you for the blighting of Royall Sherwood’s life?” He shrank before the lightnings of her glance, and muttered: “How dare you accuse me?” But she answered undauntedly: “Do you think I did not guess the truth--that you made a mistake, and wreaked your fury on Royall Sherwood instead of Dallas Bain, of whom you were mistakenly jealous? Remember, you had threatened me you would kill him.” He made no answer, and the sorrowful droop of his dark head attested his remorse and repentance. She continued bitterly: “What I wish to ask you is, why did you thrust yourself into this home, whose inmates would shrink from you in loathing did they guess the fatal truth? Was it to spy upon my actions? How dare you, when you are nothing to me--nothing but an abhorred memory I would fain banish!” “I did not know you were here, Annette, or I should never have presumed to enter the house, believe me,” he murmured, low and deprecatingly, his very soul reeling before her wrath and scorn. Had she ever dreamed of seeing that dark head, once so proud and erect, bowed so low with shame and sorrow and repentance? It touched her even in her anger, and she said, a shade more gently: “Then why are you here at all? Can it be a pleasure to you to look on the suffering you have caused?” “A pleasure! Oh, God!” and his husky voice almost broke as he continued: “Let me speak; let me tell you my real motive, and then you will see that I am not quite a fiend!” Without waiting for her permission, he went on with his reasons in such an eloquent voice that she could not doubt his truth. “Do you think it does not stab me to the heart to look on my accursed work? Do you think I am so vile I cannot repent and wish to expiate the deed by a life’s devotion? Yes, I am a changed man, Annette. My former madness would not be possible to me now. I am a crushed and broken man, sin-stricken, sorrowful, repentant. I wish to devote my life to Royall Sherwood, so as to alleviate as far as possible the sufferings I have caused. Could remorse and repentance further go? I ask nothing of you or any one but the privilege to remain near him and give up the best that is in me for his comfort. Will you grant me that longed-for boon?” “Yes,” she murmured, very low; then added: “But you and I, Ray Dering, must meet hereafter as the careless strangers we appear to our friends.”