had never heard her name. He spoke of
her father as though Eyre must have known him. And yet this rambling
series of confessions and self-reproaches and tender memories did form
a certain sort of narrative, so that the young fellow sitting quietly
in the boat there got a pretty fair notion of what had happened.

"You are an unlucky fellow," he said to Lavender. "I never heard
anything like that. But you know you must have exaggerated a good deal
about it: I should like to hear her story. I am sure you could not
have treated her like that."

"God knows how I did, but the truth is just as I have told you; and
although I was blind enough at the time, I can read the whole story
now in letters of fire. I hope you will never have such a thing
constantly before your eyes, Johnny."

The lad was silent for some time, and then he said, rather timidly,
"Do you think, Lavender, she knows how sorry you are?"

"If she did, what good would that do?" said the other.

"Women are awfully forgiving, you know," Johnny said in a hesitating
fashion. "I--I don't think it is quite fair not to give her a
chance--a chance of--of being generous, you know. You know, I think
the better a woman is, the more inclined she is to be charitable to
other folks who mayn't be quite up to the mark, you know; and you see,
it ain't every one who can claim to be always doing the right thing;
and the next best thing to that is to be sorry for what you've done
and try to do better. It's rather cheeky, you know, my advising you,
or trying to make you pluck up your spirits; but I'll tell you what
it is, Lavender, if I knew her well enough I'd go straight to her
to-morrow, and I'd put in a good word for you, and tell her some
things she doesn't know; and you'd see if she wouldn't write you a
letter, or even come and see you."

"That is all nonsense, Johnny, though it's very good of you to think
of it. The mischief I have done isn't to be put aside by the mere
writing of a letter."

"But it seems to me," Johnny said with some warmth, "that you are as
unfair to her as to yourself in not giving her a chance. You don't
know how willing she may be to overlook everything that is past."

"If she were, I am not fit to go near her. I couldn't have the cheek
to try, Johnny."

"But what more can you be than sorry for what is past?" said the
younger fellow persistently. "And you don't know how pleased it makes
a good woman to give her the chance of forgiving anybody