"David, I don't want to excuse myself or to blame anybody else, whoever

it may be, and however wickedly he may have acted. But, from my soul and

before God, I tell you that if I denounced you I did it for the best."

"The best!"

He laughed bitterly, but she forced herself to go on.

"When you went away you warned me that your enemies could be merciless.

They have been merciless. First, they tempted me with the fear of

poverty. I had been accustomed to wealth, comfort, luxury. Look round

you, David--they are gone. Did I ever regret them? Never! I was rich

enough in your love, and I would not have sacrificed that for a queen's

crown."

She looked up at his tortured face and saw that it was full of scorn,

but still she struggled on.

"Then they tempted me with jealousy. The forged letter which killed

Bruno was intended to poison me. Did I believe it? No! I knew you loved

me, and if you didn't, if you had deceived me, that made no difference.

I loved you, and even if I lost you I should always love you,

whatever happened."

Again she looked up into his face with her glistening eyes. It was not

anger she saw there now, but an expression of bewilderment and of pain.

"Last of all, they tempted me with love itself. The treacherous tyrants

deceived and intimidated the Pope--the good and saintly Pope--and

through him they told me that your arrest was certain, your life in

danger, and nothing could save you from your present peril but that I

should denounce you for your past offences. The phantom of conspiracy

rose up before me, and I remembered my father, doomed to life-long exile

and a lonely death. It was my dark hour, dearest, and when they promised

me--faithfully promised me--that your life should be spared...."

A faint sound came from the bedroom. Roma heard it, but Rossi, in the

tumult of his emotion, heard nothing.

"I know what you will say, dear--that you would have given your life a

hundred times rather than save it at the loss of all you hold so dear.

But I am no heroine, David. I am only a woman who loves you, and I could

not see you die."

He felt his soul swell with love and forgiveness, and he wanted to sob

like a child, but Roma went on, and without trying to keep back her

tears.

"That's all, dear. Now you know everything. It is not your fault that

the love you have brought home to me is dead. I hoped that before you

came home I might die too. I think my soul must be dead already. I do

not hope for pardon, but if your great heart could pardon me...."




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