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Williamson, Charles Norris, 1859-1920

"The Powers and Maxine"


"We're all so dreadfully sorry, Mr. Dundas," I said. "I don't know if
Uncle Eric has been here yet--but he is doing all he can, and Aunt
Lilian is dreadfully upset. We're staying on in Paris on account of--on
account of this. So you see you've got friends near you. And I--we're
such old friends, I couldn't help trying as hard as I could for a sight
of you to--to cheer you up, and--and to help you, if that's possible."
I spoke very fast, not daring to look at him after the first, but
pretending to smooth out some wrinkles in one of my long gloves. My eyes
were full of tears, and I was afraid they'd go splashing down my cheeks,
if I even winked my lashes. I loved him more than ever now, and felt
capable of forgiving him anything, if only I had the chance to forgive,
and if only, _only_ he really loved me and not that other.
"Thank you, a hundred times--more than I can express," he said, with a
faint quiver in his voice--his beautiful voice, which was the first
thing that charmed me after knowing him. "It _does_ cheer me to see you.
It gives me strength and courage. You wouldn't have come if you
didn't--trust me, and believe me innocent.


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