Brother, there is nothing to forgive,’ he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘I know you speak from hurt, and though I fear the cause, I’ll not add to it by asking for its name. I’ll not tell you what to believe, either. Each man’s heart is his own, and in the end, only he has the filling of it. But I tell you this, and if never you have listened to me before, by all the love you bear for me, I beg you listen now. Because I see a shadow on you, brother. And I am afraid.’
