I am utterly and for ever out of my own good graces. I will not
forgive myself, and I cannot forget--have I only one mistake to deplore?
I have covered myself with disgrace," he continued, with infinite
self-scorn; "even you with your half divine pity cannot excuse me
there."
"Cannot I?" she answered with a sweet wistfulness, that was almost
tender.
He set his teeth as if in a passion against himself, a flash came from
the blue eyes, and his Saxon complexion showed the blood through almost
to the roots of the hair. "I have covered myself with disgrace--I am the
most unmanly fool that ever breathed--I hate myself!" He started up and
paced the room, as if he felt choked, whilst she looked on amazed for
the moment, and not yet aware what this meant.
"John!" she exclaimed.
"I suppose you thought I had forgotten to despise myself," he went on in
a tone rather less defiant. "When that night I asked you for a kiss--I
had not, nothing of the kind--I thought my mind would go, or my breath
would leave me before the morning. Surely that would have been so but
for you.
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