A grim smile touched the corners of the stern mouth.
"I cannot take it." Dale raised one hand as if pushing aside an insulting offering.
"John--I have my share--and my father's money. Think! Philip meant that you should prove your forgiveness by--finishing his work. I never saw greater anguish than in his desire. Can you, dare you, refuse?"
A mist rose in Dale's eyes. Ruth saw it, and it gave her courage.
Strangely enough, now that she groped toward this new man she saw before her, her aversion to the man she once knew was lost sight of. A dim fear arose that her sacrifice might escape him and her. Not through any unwillingness on their parts, but through a misunderstanding. She bravely strove to down the menace.
"John--I came to this house a few days ago to help a weak, erring woman, if I could. That is all I knew. Almost at once she made me see the strange thing that had happened here through the goodness of a strong man, and the simplicity of--a weak, but loving woman.
"All unknowingly I yearned to help her--save her, but she wanted to save herself more than I understood at first. She was so brave and direct; once she saw where her weakness had placed her and the man she loved, she was strong in her determination to right the wrong. For her, poor soul, there was but one way--she returned to her husband!
"John--_she_ told me who you were. In some way she knew who I was. I was so distressed and surprised at the time that I did not question how she knew me--but she did and"--Ruth could not bring herself to say, "she gave you back to me."
"John--let the cruel, cruel past be forgotten. Come back to your own. The world will see you righted. John, say that it shall be as I--as Philip--desire."
She looked like a spirit as she bent toward him full of compassion, of entreaty, and the kinship with that which she believed was still in him, and only waiting for her to call to action.
The minutes passed--her call brought forth no rush of checked emotion and controlled passion.
Dale looked at her coldly. He was far too simple a man, intrinsically, to gather the true, inward drift of her thought. He was now seeking to understand the change that had overcome him. She, the girl of his Past who had held his love, hope and desire; she no longer moved him except in wonder and aversion. But he felt that it was due her that he should meet her as far as possible on this new way they were travelling. He shifted his position. He knew something more was expected of him than he could give; but he must give as he could.