Fulvia said nothing. She could not have been taken by surprise, yet the shock overcame her. Perhaps she had never entirely given up hope till now.
Nigel was the first to speak.
"Fulvie, you would have it!" he said gently. "But you were wrong to ask me. It was not needed. The love for Ethel is such an old love, it cannot die in a day—cannot change, I mean, into—But indeed I have not thought of Ethel in that light lately, only as—We should have become friends—no more! I believe that one can conquer—may conquer! I would have fought it out, God helping me."
Fulvia held out her hand, and Nigel grasped it, repeating, "Why did you insist? It was cruel to yourself and me. I think you ought to know how dear you are to—even though—Why could you not let things alone? I would have conquered!"
"And all the time you and Ethel breaking your hearts for one another," Fulvia struggled to say.
"No—if it was right—and indeed I would have given you no cause—"
"Oh no! You have been so good to me always!"
"I will be again. Cannot we forget all this?"
Fulvia mastered her voice, and even forced a smile. "Yes," she said; "we will forget it all—the whole, from first to last. You shall be good to me still, only not so! We are brother and sister again, and you are free. I know I am right. It will be right for us both,—for all of us. By-and-by we shall be thankful that things did not go too far. I shall find some work in life worth doing. It is best so—indeed it is. Why must you look unhappy? I will try to be a good sister to you—both."
"You make me feel how grievously I have failed."