a happy conscience. Is it not true? You have half repented of your
bargain already. Is it not so?'

He did not answer her; but getting up from his seat walked to the front
of the summer-house, and stood there with his back turned upon her. It
was not that he meant to be ungracious, but in truth he did not know how
to answer her. He had half repented of his bargain.

'John,' she said, getting up and following him so that she could put her
hand upon his arm, 'I have been very angry with you.'

'Angry with me!' he said, turning sharp upon her.

'Yes, angry with you. You would have treated me like a child. But that
feeling has gone now. I am not angry now. There is my hand;--the hand of
a friend. Let the words that have been spoken between us be as though
they had not been spoken. Let us both be free.'

'Do you mean it?' he asked.

'Certainly I mean it.' As she spoke these words her eyes were filled
with tears in spite of all the efforts she could make to restrain them;
but he was not looking at her, and her efforts had sufficed to prevent
any sob from being audible.

'With all my heart,' he said; and it was manifest from his tone that he
had no thought of her happiness as he spoke. It was true that she had
been angry with him--angry, as she had herself declared; but
nevertheless, in what she had said and what she had done, she had
thought more of his happiness than of her own. Now she was angry once