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with allelse in life? That is ridiculous. You have--what is the word?--expiated!yes, that is it--expiated it, I know."
"The past can never be undone, madam."
"That, of course, is true," she nodded, with the air of a sage, "but itcan be forgotten."
His hand flew out eagerly and dropped back to his side. It was hopeless.He could not tell her the truth and ask her to share his disgrace; hemust bear it alone, and, above all, he must not whine. He had chosen totake Richard's blame and he must abide by the consequences. It was not aburden to be cast off as soon as it became too heavy for him. It was forever--for ever. He forced his mind to grasp that fact. All through hislife he must be alone against the world; his name would never becleared; he could never ask this sweet child who sat before him withsuch a wistful, pleading look on her lovely face, to wed him. He lookeddown at her sombrely, telling himself that she did not really care: thatit was his own foolish imagination. Now she was speaking: he listened tothe liquid voice that repeated:
"Could it not be forgotten?"
"No, mademoiselle. It will always be there."
"To all intents and purposes, might it not be forgotten?" she persisted.
"It will always stand in the way, mademoiselle."
He supposed that mechanical voice was his own. Through his brainthrummed the thought: "It is for Dick's sake ... for Dick's sake. ForDick's sake you must be silent." Resolutely he pulled himself together.
"It will stand in the way--of what?" asked Diana.
"I can never ask a woman to be my wife," he replied.
Diana wantonly stripped a rose of its petals, letting each fragrant leafflutter slowly to the ground.
"I do not see why you cannot, sir."
"No woman would share my disgrace."
"No?"
"No."
"You seem very certain, Mr. Carr. Pray have you asked the lady?"
"No, madam." Carstares was as white as she was red, but he was holdinghimself well in hand.
"Then--" the husky voice was very low, "then--why don't you?"
The slim hand against the tree trunk was clenched tightly, she observed.In his pale face the blue eyes burnt dark.
"Because, madam, 'twere the action of a--of a--"
"Of a what, Mr. Carr?"
"A cur! A scoundrel! A blackguard!"
Another rose was sharing the fate of the first.
"I have heard it said that some women like--curs, and-and--andscoundrels; even blackguards," remarked that provocative voice. Throughher lashes its owner watched my lord's knuckles gleam white against thetree-bark.
"Not the lady I love, madam."
"Oh? But are you sure?"
"I am sure. She must marry a man whose honour is spotless; who is not--anameless outcast, and who lives--not--by dice--and highway robbery."
He knew that the brown eyes were glowing and sparkling with unshedtears, but he kept his own turned inexorably the other way. There was nodoubting now that she cared, and that she knew that he did also. Hecould not leave her to think that her love had been slighted. She mustnot be hurt, but made to understand that he could not declare his love.But how hard it was, with her sorrowful gaze upon him and the pleadingnote in her voice. It was quivering now:
"Must she, sir?"
