the matter off jocularly, but the sight of the girl’s tear-stained face and the emotion of the minutes before had softened and awed him. His eyes seemed yet to hold those gray ones; he felt strangely the pressure of that soft body against his.
“Ah, my dear,” he said gently, “could you not believe me when I told you that my one wish was to make you happy as long as I lived? Happiness is not built on mistakes, and you must forgive us if we do not always allow youth to monopolize them.
“She has always been like a dear child to me, Mr. Morris”—he turned to the other man—“and you would never wish me to change my regard for her, could you know it!
“Go with him, Lady dear, and forgive me if I have ever pained you—believe me, I am very happy to-night.”
He raised her softly as she knelt before him weeping, and kissed her hair.
