"It is none the less sincere, monsieur!"
"And your humility?"
"That too, monsieur."
"I need a wife less than a servant who will nurse me!" I said coldly.
"I will serve you, monsieur."
I looked away and reflected deeply on her words. But though I tried, I could not understand her, and ignorance intensified distrust. Yet I foresaw that a period of sickness lay before me, and I could not believe that she had saved me to again betray me. Some one I must lean upon—it was imperative. She watched me in most evident anxiety, scarcely breathing the while.
I turned at last, and said:
"Have you money?"
"None, monsieur."
I felt my lip curl. It was, then, poverty which had inspired her abject self-surrender—and perhaps, too, fear. No doubt she relied upon my aid to escape Sir Charles Venner's vengeance.