The little dog, mute, watchful, kept close at her side.
"Ellen," said I to her, "the time has come now. I am not going to wait
any longer. Read this." I put into her hand Gordon Orme's confession.
She read, with horror starting on her face. "What a scoundrel--what a
criminal!" she said. "The man was a demon. He killed your father!"
"Yes, and in turn I killed him," I said, slowly. Her eyes flashed. She
was savage again, as I had seen her. My soul leaped out to see her
fierce, relentless, exulting that I had fought and won, careless that I
had slain.
"Orme did all he could to ruin me in every way," I added. "Read on."
Then I saw her face change to pity as she came to the next clause. So
now she knew the truth about Grace Sheraton, and, I hoped, the truth
about John Cowles.
"Can you forgive me?" she said, brokenly, her dark eyes swimming in
tears, as she turned toward me.
"That is not the question," I answered, slowly. "It is, can _you_
forgive _me_?" Her hand fell on my arm imploringly.
"I have no doubt that I was much to blame for that poor girl's act," I
continued. "The question only is, has my punishment been enough, or can
it be enough? Do you forgive me? We all make mistakes.
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