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’
Can
I
never
make
you
think
of
other
days
than
those
—
of
the
happier
days
to
come
?
Or
,
if
you
must
think
of
the
time
that
is
passed
,
can
you
not
look
back
to
the
time
when
I
first
loved
you
?
’
She
sighed
as
he
put
the
question
.
’
Spare
me
,
Henry
,
’
she
answered
sadly
.
’
Say
no
more
!
’
The
colour
again
rose
in
her
cheeks
;
her
hand
trembled
in
his
.
She
looked
lovely
,
with
her
eyes
cast
down
and
her
bosom
heaving
gently
.
At
that
moment
he
would
have
given
everything
he
had
in
the
world
to
take
her
in
his
arms
and
kiss
her
.
Some
mysterious
sympathy
,
passing
from
his
hand
to
hers
,
seemed
to
tell
her
what
was
in
his
mind
.
She
snatched
her
hand
away
,
and
suddenly
looked
up
at
him
.
The
tears
were
in
her
eyes
.
She
said
nothing
;
she
let
her
eyes
speak
for
her
.
They
warned
him
—
without
anger
,
without
unkindness
—
but
still
they
warned
him
to
press
her
no
further
that
day
.
’
Only
tell
me
that
I
am
forgiven
,
’
he
said
,
as
he
rose
from
the
sofa
.
’
Yes
,
’
she
answered
quietly
,
’
you
are
forgiven
.
’
’
I
have
not
lowered
myself
in
your
estimation
,
Agnes
?
’
’
Oh
,
no
!
’
’
Do
you
wish
me
to
leave
you
?
’
She
rose
,
in
her
turn
,
from
the
sofa
,
and
walked
to
her
writing
-
table
before
she
replied
.
The
unfinished
letter
which
she
had
been
writing
when
Lady
Montbarry
interrupted
her
,
lay
open
on
the
blotting
-
book
.
As
she
looked
at
the
letter
,
and
then
looked
at
Henry
,
the
smile
that
charmed
everybody
showed
itself
in
her
face
.
’
You
must
not
go
just
yet
,
’
she
said
:
’
I
have
something
to
tell
you
.
