Dr. Duncan and Mrs. Browning passed out of the room, leaving them alone.
"Yes, I was cruel," she went on. "You cannot help it. You have tried so hard. I know that well. But till to-day I have not known Ethel—the noble girl that she is! I have dared to think her ordinary. Have you heard how things happened? You ought to hear!"
"Not all—"
"No,—I might guess Ethel would not tell. I slipped first, and she came to my help, and we fell in together. She could not hold me up, though she tried. Then we clung to the bough, and it was giving way. I was frightened, but Ethel did not seem afraid. She and I are so different. We could not be sure if the bough would last, and Ethel let go to save me, and went down the river. If I had guessed in time, I would have held her fast; but how could I guess? That was the last I saw of Ethel. It was grand of her—more than I could have done in her place. I shall never forget her face, the moment that she let go—never! I shall always know what Ethel is."
Nigel said nothing, and not a feature of his face changed. Fulvia watched him closely, knowing that he would not show what he might have shown.
"Is Ethel always like that?"
"Yes—always."
"And you have known it?"
"Yes—" still lower.
"I think you ought to lie down," said Fulvia abruptly. "I have not seen you so for a long while—not since padre's death." Then she looked round, to find Dr. Duncan by her side. "Nigel is ill," she said with a shudder.