Pardon
As Tellier's voice died away along the hall, a silence fell upon the
room which he had left--a silence from which the duchess was the first
to rouse herself.
"Come, Fritz," she said, "we must go. We have work to do," and she held
out her hand to him.
He took a step toward her, hesitated, stopped.
"In a moment, madame," said he. "Before I go, I have an apology to make
and a pardon to crave."
"Of whom?" demanded the duchess.
For answer, the Prince turned to Susie, so near that he almost touched
her--so near that she could see the trembling of his hands, the
throbbing of his heart.
"Miss Rushford," he said, in a voice low, carefully repressed, but
vibrant with emotion, "I know that I have played the scoundrel; I know
that I have no right whatever to address you; I know that I have done
everything I could to forfeit your respect. Believe me, the cup is
bitter--the more so, since I myself prepared it!"
His voice was trembling so that for the moment he could not go on.
"No, no!" cried the duchess, from the door, "you wrong yourself, Fritz.
It was I prepared it--it is I who am to blame!"
But he motioned her to silence.
"It was I prepared it," he repeated, "by my unjust suspicions and
ungentlemanly action. I shall drain it with what manhood I have. And I
hope, mademoiselle, that you will, in time, find it in your heart to
pardon me and to think of me with kindness. I can only repeat to you
what I have already told your father--that I love you truly and
deeply--with my whole heart--as I shall always love you--always--Oh, if
I had not been a fool!"
The duchess, looking on from the door, felt a sudden wave of tenderness
sweep over her. Perhaps she recalled her own youth--perhaps it was not
quite the truth that she had never regretted--perhaps she was softened
by the emotions of the moment. She came to Susie and took her hand in
hers.
"Mademoiselle," she said, softly, "I also ask pardon--you will not bear
ill-will against an old woman, who imagined that she was acting wisely.
I feel that I am going to love you. You have spirit--you are worthy to
be even a Markeld. You must forgive that poor boy yonder."
"I think I shall put him on probation," said Susie, glancing up with
bright eyes into the eager face beside her.
The Prince sank to his knee, his face suddenly radiant with joy, caught
her hand and covered it with kisses.
"Six months, a year, ten years!" he cried. "I shall be content!"
"Ten years! Nonsense!" cried the duchess. "Ten days, mademoiselle. You
do not love him if you make it an instant longer!"
"No, not ten days, madame," corrected Susie, with a laugh that was half
a sob. "Let us say ten minutes!"