213
the darkness, for the first time he felt that a weight
had been lifted from him.
He called for her regularly on her days out, and
he visited her parents ; they were engaged now.
Often he walked beside her in silence, and often
she couldn't help asking him if something was the
matter with him. Then he began again, discon-
solately, with his self-reproaches, saying that he had
committed worse crimes than he had confessed to
her, and could not believe that he would ever feel
himself free from guilt. Nothing she did to cheer
him up was of any avail. She spoke firmly as though
she were older and wiser than he, saying that she
had forgiven him everything, however bad it might
have been, and after all, his will was good and he
could count on her to help him to live an honest life.
Sometimes he pressed her arm closely and believed
that she would save him. But sometimes he shook
his head at everything she said. God had made him
wicked, full to the brim with sin ; what could human
beings like them do about it ? He couldn't even tell
her about the terrifying thoughts that kept him
awake in bed, so dreadful that perhaps it would be
better if he made an end of his life. c Oh, laddie,5
she said, * you have gone through so much, and it
can't all be put right in a day, but, believe me, you
are no worse than me, but you worry more about
it.*
She encountered Werendonk one morning and