I remember that you warned me.

Fool that I was not to follow your advice!" "We are all weak and mortal, sire.

Who has not fallen?
Nay, sire, it goes to my heart to see you thus." He was standing by the fireplace, his face buried in his hands, and she could tell by the catch of his breath that he was weeping.

All the pity of her woman's nature went out to that silent and repenting figure dimly seen in the failing light.

She put out her hand with a gesture of sympathy, and it rested for an instant upon his velvet sleeve.