“I am sorry,” he said slowly. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. About her, as she had gone day by day to and from the Tredgold College, she had seen and not seen many an incidental aspect of those sides of life about which girls are expected to know nothing, aspects that were extraordinarily relevant to her own position and outlook on the world, and yet by convention ineffably remote.
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