"Don't excite yourself, Peter," begged Leonore. "We'll not talk of that
now. Not till you are better."
"What are you here for?" cried Peter. "Why did you come--?"
"Oh, please, Peter, be quiet."
"Tell me, I will have it." Peter was exciting himself, more from
Leonore's look than by what she said.
"Oh, Peter. I made papa bring me--because--Oh! I wanted to ask you to do
something. For my sake!"
"What is it?"
"I wanted to ask you," sobbed Leonore, "to marry her. Then I shall
always think you were what I--I--have been loving, and not--" Leonore
laid her head down on his knee, and sobbed bitterly.
Peter raised Leonore in his arms, and laid the little head on his
shoulder.
"Dear one," he said, "do you love me?"
"Yes," sobbed Leonore.
"And do you think I love you?"
"Yes."
"Now look into your heart. Could you tell me a lie?"
"No."
"Nor can I you. I am not the father of that boy, and I never wronged his
mother."
"But you told--" sobbed Leonore.
"I lied to your mother, dear.
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