Such were Virginia’s feelings, and the sweet happiness experienced when she confessed her sin shone in her face with convincing truthfulness.
John listened to her with ever increasing amazement, and when she had concluded, his cold, austere demeanor had perceptibly softened. Yet Thorpe breathed hard.
“You vilified Corway’s character and I have heard recently of his—of her mad infatuation for him and of his frequent visits to our home while I was away in China.”
“The source of your information was a lie. You received it gratuitously from Beauchamp, did you not?”
“I have not mentioned the source of my information. Why do you think he was my informant?”
“Because he hated Corway.”
“And you conspired with him to ruin my home,” quickly interrupted Thorpe, and again coldly turned from her.
“You shall hear me!” and Virginia insistently gripped his coat sleeve and turned him toward her. “I have sought you too long to explain this unhappy affair, and now that I have found you, you must hear me out.”
Smothering his impatience, Thorpe said: “Well!”
“I loved Corway, oh, so fondly!—but, alas, too well, and I allowed myself to cherish the belief that in his endearing manifestations he reciprocated my love. But on my premature return from the farm, I unexpectedly heard him declare his passion for Hazel. Then an all absorbing desire for revenge possessed me.