“Let us walk slowly,” continued she, “and do not be afraid to lean on me.  All you have to think of is reaching the carriage.”

“How good you are,” stammered he, “and how ashamed I am!”

“Ashamed of what?” returned Reine, hastily.  “I have done nothing extraordinary; anyone else would have acted in the same manner.”

“I entreat you,” replied he, earnestly, “not to spoil my happiness.  I know very well that the first person who happened to pass would have rendered me some charitable assistance; but the thought that it is you—­you alone—­who have helped me, fills me with delight, at:  the same time that it increases my remorse.  I so little deserve that you should interest yourself in my behalf!”

He waited, hoping perhaps that she would ask for an explanation, but, seeing that she did not appear to understand, he added: 

“I have offended you.  I have misunderstood you, and I have been cruelly punished for my mistake.  But what avails my tardy regret in healing the injuries I have inflicted!  Ah! if one could only go backward, and efface, with a single stroke, the hours in which one has been blind and headstrong!”

“Let us not speak of that!” replied she, shortly, but in a singularly softened tone.

In spite of herself, she was touched by this expression of repentance, so naively acknowledged in broken, disconnected sentences, vibrating with the ring of true sincerity.  In proportion as he abased himself, her anger diminished, and she recognized that she loved him just the same, notwithstanding his defects, his weakness, and his want of tact and polish.  She was also profoundly touched by his revealing to her, for the first time, a portion of his hidden feelings.

They had become silent again, but they felt nearer to each other than ever before; their secret thoughts seemed to be transmitted to each other; a mute understanding was established between them.  She lent him the support of her arm with more freedom, and the young man seemed to experience fresh delight in her firm and sympathetic assistance.

Progressing slowly, although more quickly than they would have chosen themselves, they reached the foot of the path, and perceived the wagon waiting on the beaten road.  Julien mounted therein with the aid of Reine and the driver.  When he was stretched on the straw, which had been spread for him on the bottom of the wagon, he leaned forward on the side, and his eyes met those of Reine.  For a few moments their gaze seemed riveted upon each other, and their mutual understanding was complete.  These few, brief moments contained a whole confession of love; avowals mingled with repentance, promises of pardon, tender reconciliation!

“Thanks!” he sighed at last, “will you give me your hand?”

She gave it, and while he held it in his own, Reine turned toward the driver on the seat.

“Felix,” said she, warningly, “drive slowly and avoid the ruts.  Good-night, Monsieur de Buxieres, send for the doctor as soon as you get in, and all will be well.  I will send to inquire how you are getting along.”