“Please forgive me. Look at these walls. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. "Oh! if I had known this," he exclaimed, "what guilt, what remorse might have been spared me!" "Repentance comes too late when the deed's done," returned Wild, bitterly. It is necessary. Pause. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked.
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