See--I can hold it without shame, for my fingers have not
pressed those of any woman alive since we parted."
She saw how the utterance of those few words told upon him, and
refrained from the delight of listening longer to the voice that was
still to her inexpressibly dear. So she checked him fondly when he would
have gone on speaking. Yet the silence that ensued was first broken by
Cecil.
"My own! I fear--I fear that you are in great danger. How long we may
_both_ have to suffer, God alone can tell. But will you not see a
clergyman? He might help you though I am weak and powerless."
A shadow of the old sardonic scorn swept across Keene's emaciated face,
and passed away as suddenly.
"It is somewhat late for any help that priests can bring. Besides, I can
not dwell now on any of my past sins, save one. All my thoughts are
taken up with the wrong that I have done to you."
This was true. If there were reproachful phantoms that had a right to
haunt Royston's death-bed, the living presence kept them all at bay.
Cecil's eyes had never been more eloquent than they were then, but they
spoke of nothing but despair.
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