I thought that if I went to my
grave, instead of going to the man who attempted your life, you
would see that you had misjudged me. Here is a letter which I wrote
you. It should go with the poison. It is all that I can offer in
excuse or extenuation."
"Good God!" he exclaimed. "I have escaped a worse fate than yours
would have been," and she felt his arm again trembling violently
beneath her hand.
"I did not think you would care so greatly," she murmured.
"Miss Mayhew," he said, in a deep voice, "promise me, before God,
that you will never harbor such a thought again."
"I hope I never may," she replied, despondently, "but I've lost
all confidence in myself, Mr. Van Berg."
"Poor child! What a brute I've been," he muttered; but she heard
him.
As the mounted the piazza, they met Stanton and Mrs. Mayhew.
"Why, Ida," exclaimed her mother, "I thought you were in your room."
"I walked to the village with a party of young people," was her
hasty reply, "and Mr. Van Berg met me on our return. I'm very
tired. Good-night," and she went directly to her room.
The artist's manner in parting was polite and respectful, and by
this simple act, he did much to reinstate her in the social position
she had well nigh lost, through her supposed infatuation with the
man who was now a synonym in the house for everything that was
vile.
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