With that hand
he caught Brandon's wrist. The latter stood with his eyes cast down,
sullenly--already, I am sure, horror at the act of foul cowardice into
which his passion had driven him was creeping over him--he did not try
to disengage himself. Had he done so, thrice his strength would not have
set him free.
"I thank God, from my heart," Guy said, very slowly and steadily, "that,
if I meet your sister hereafter, I shall not shrink before her, for I
believe all I promised her has been kept. Listen! you would feel shame
to your life's end thinking that you had struck a helpless, dying
cripple. It is not so. You don't know what you risked. You were within
arm's-length, and at close quarters I could be dangerous still. Look."
He took up a small silver cup that lay near, and crushed it flat between
his fingers.
There was silence then; only Brandon's breath was heard, drawn hard and
irregularly, as if he was trying to throw off a weight from his chest.
Guy looked up at him, and said very gently, holding out his hand, "Once
more, forgive me."
Cyril answered in a thick, smothered voice,
"I will not take your hand. I will never forgive you. But I forgive
Constance; for--I understand her now.
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