CHAPTER XLII

DOWN THE PEMBERLEY ROAD

Three-quarters of an hour had elapsed before I ventured into the room
again; but at the first sound of my footsteps Gladys looked up, and
called to me in a voice changed and broken with happiness.

'Ursula, dear Ursula, come here.' And as I knelt down beside her and put
my arms round her she laid her cheek against my shoulder: it was wet with
tears.

'Ursula, I am so happy. Do you know that he loves me, that he has loved
me all through these years? You must not see what he says; it is only for
my eyes; it is too sweet and sacred to be repeated; but I never dreamt
that any one could care for me like that.'

I kissed her without speaking; there seemed a lump in my throat just
then. I did not often repine, but the yearning sense of pain was strong
on me. When would this cruel silence between me and Giles be broken? But
Gladys, wrapt in her own blissful thoughts, did not notice my emotion.

'He says that there is much that he can only tell me by word of mouth,
and that he dare not trust to a letter explanations for his silence, and
much that I shall have to tell him in return; for we shall need each
other's help in making everything clear.

'He seems to reproach himself bitterly, and asks my pardon over and over
again for misunderstanding me so. He says my giving up my work was the
first blow to his hopes, and then he had been told that I cared for my
cousin Claude. He believed until this morning that I was in love with
him; and it was your going to him--oh, my darling! how good you have been
to me and him!--that gave him courage to write this letter, Ursula.'
And here she cried a little. 'Was it Etta who told him this falsehood
about, Claude? How could she he so wicked and cruel?'

'Do not think about her to-day, my dearest,' I returned soothingly. 'Her
punishment will be great some day. We will not sit in judgment on her
just now. She cannot touch your happiness again, thank heaven!'

'No,' with a sigh; 'but, as Max says, it is difficult to forgive the
person who is the chief source of all our trouble. He did say that, and
then he reproached himself again for uncharitableness, and added that he
ought to have known me better.

'He does not seem quite certain yet that I can care for him, and he begs
for just one word to put him out of his suspense, to tell him if I can
ever love him well enough to be his wife. I don't want him to wait long
for my answer, Ursula: