"Not a meanness!" said the girl, sharply.
"Yes, meanness, deceit, lies, anything—so long as it was done for her sake."
"I don't believe that would be the case with Margaret. Once disgust her, and you lose her love."
"Then she can't have much to give," retorted Wyvis.
Janetta was silent. In her secret heart she did not think that Margaret could love very deeply—that, indeed, she had not much to give.
"Well, what's the upshot?" said her cousin, at last, in a dogged tone. "Are you satisfied at last?"
"I shall be better satisfied when you make things plain to the Adairs. You have no right to win Margaret's heart in this secret way. You blamed Cuthbert for making love to Nora. It is far worse for you to do it to Margaret Adair."
"I am so much beneath her, am I not?" said Wyvis, with a sneer. And then he once more spoke eagerly. "I am beneath her: I am as the dust under her feet. Don't you think I know that? I'll tell you what, Janetta, when I first saw her and spoke to her—here, in this room, if you remember—I thought that she was like a being from another world. I had never seen anyone like her. She is the fairest, sweetest of women, and I would not harm her for the world."
"I don't know whether I ought even to listen to you," said Janetta, in a troubled voice and with averted head. "You know, many people would say that you were in the wrong altogether—that you were not free——"
"Then they would say a lie! I am legally free, I believe, and morally free, I am certain. I thank God for it. I have suffered enough."