Dr. Ferris was trembling with excitement.

“But thank God my deal against Allen didn’t go through.  That’s something saved out of the burning.  Where is Rose?  I want Rose.”

“Rose?”

“I remember.  I locked her up—­in that room.  The key’s in the bureau top drawer, left.  I’d like her to sit by me.  I want to go to sleep.  I want to forget.  Time enough to remember when I’m not sick....  That you, Rose?  Sit by me and hold my hand, there’s a dear.  If I need anything she’ll call you, doctor.  Just leave us alone, will you?”

He clung to the hand, as a child clings to its mother’s hand; and there was a tenderness and trust in the clasp that thrilled the girl to her heart.

“Say you forgive me, Rose.”  His voice was wheedling.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

“We got a lot to live down, Rose.  Don’t say we can’t do it.  Wait till I’m up and around, and strong.”

He fell asleep, breathing quietly.  Two hours later he woke.  Rose had not moved.

“We’ll begin,” he said, “at once by getting married.  I’ve dreamed it all out.  And we’ll set up home in a far place.  That is, if they’ll give me a chance.  But I’ve never asked you—­Rose, will you marry me?”

“Do you want me?” She leaned forward and rested her cheek against his.

“Do you understand?” he said.  “We’re beginning all over.  You can’t undo things that you’ve done; but you can start out and do the other kind of things and strike some sort of a balance—­not before man maybe—­but in your own conscience.  That’s something.  I want to talk to Ferris.  Call him, will you, and leave us.”

“Doctor, was everything I was bone pressure?  Ever get drunk?”

Dr. Ferris nodded gravely.  “In extreme youth,” he said.

“Well, you know how the next day you remember some of the things you did, and half remember others, and have the shakes and horrors all around, and make up your mind you’ll never do so and so again?  That’s me—­at this moment.  But the past I’m facing is a million times harder to face than the average spree.  It covers years and years.  It’s black as pitch.  I don’t recall any white places.  Everything that the law of man forbids I’ve done, and everything that the law of God forbids.  I won’t detail.  It’s enough that I know.  Some wrongs I can put finger to and right; others have gone their way out of reach, out of recovery.  Maybe I don’t sound sorry enough?  I tell you it takes every ounce of courage I’ve got to remember my past, and face it.  Was it all bone pressure?  Am I really changed?  Am I accountable for what I did?  Was it I that did wicked things right and left, or was it somebody else that did ’em?  Another thing, is the change permanent?  Am I a good man now, or am I having some sort of a fit?  Fetch me a hand-glass off the bureau, will you?”

Blizzard looked at himself in the mirror.