"We must shelter his name, his dear name, at any cost."
"Fulvia does not wish it to be known." Nigel spoke without stirring. "But—"
"It must not be known; his name must be guarded. It would break my heart! If this becomes known, I shall—die," she whispered. "I could never look any one in the face again. It would be—fearful!"
She laid her hand on his—ice-cold, both hers and his. "Nigel, help me; tell me what can be done. It will kill me if this becomes known. Think of all Newton Bury talking—talking of—him! I could not bear it!" and there was a terrible sob. "What can we do? Fulvia does not wish—but will—will Mr. Carden-Cox keep silence?"
"Yes, if—"
Nigel caught himself up; he had not meant to say so much.
"If? Has he made a condition?"
"He will do nothing till I write or see him again."
"No; but 'if'—you said 'if.' Did you mean nothing? You must tell me all. I cannot bear the thought of its being known. It would be too—too fearful—now he is gene! He cannot defend himself. And people are so hard; they would judge him cruelly. I wish you would look at me—not hide your eyes. Why do you? I feel so alone;" with another deep sob. "And no one but you can help me. If you would only speak out—only hide nothing! I think I have a right to be told—I, your mother!"
His chivalry could not disregard the appeal of her bitter distress, and of her lonely widowhood. He was all that she had left—all she could lean upon. Wisely or unwisely, he came to the resolution to speak out. Perhaps he was in despair of escape; perhaps—though he did not guess this till later—he had a faint hope of finding her on his side. He knew the jealousy of her love for him; and he did not allow for concomitant circumstances.