Would to God he had not, she thought.
There were other things besides his crime of forgery which had acted far more powerfully upon Mary Goddard's mind, and which had broken for ever all ties of affection; circumstances which had appeared during his trial and which had shown that he had not only been unfaithful to those who trusted him, but had been unfaithful to the wife who loved him.

That was what she could not forgive; it was the memory of that which rose like an impassable wall between her and him, worse than his frauds, his forgery, worse almost than his murder.

He had done that which even a loving woman could not pardon, that which was past all forgiveness.

That was why his sudden appearance roused no tender memories, elicited seemingly so little sympathy from her.

She was too good a woman to say it, but she knew in her heart that she wished him dead, the very possibility of ever seeing him again gone from her life for ever, no matter how.
But she must see him again, nevertheless, and to-morrow.