For several seconds the stillness was almost as profound as
it had been before. Then Giovanni spoke out slowly and earnestly.
"My beloved wife," he said, looking up into her face, "I know all
the truth now. I know what I have done. I know what you have
suffered. Forgive me if you can. I will give my whole life to
deserve your pardon."
For an instant all Corona's beauty returned to her face as she
heard his words. Her eyes shone softly, the colour mounted to her
pale cheeks, and she breathed one happy sigh of relief and
gladness. Her fingers contracted and closed round his with a
tender pressure.
"It is true," she said, scarcely audibly. "You are not trying to
deceive me in order to keep me alive?"
"It is true, darling," he answered. "San Giacinto wrote the
letter. It was not even meant to seem to come from you. Oh,
Corona--can you ever forgive me?"
She turned so as to see him better, and looked long into his eyes.
The colour slowly faded again from her face, and her expression
changed, growing suddenly sad.
"I will forgive you. I will try to forget it all, Giovanni. You
should have believed me, for I have never lied to you. It will be
long before I am strong again, and I shall have much time to think
of it."
Giovanni rose to his feet, still clasping her hand.
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