“But I do not wish to answer.”
“Oh, God help me! This is hard!” cried the woman, looking wildly around, as if a power of help lay in the beautiful shrubs.
“Is this conscience?” said Ross, bending his eyes sternly upon her.
“Conscience! Conscience!”
“Madam, once for all, if you have anything to confess——”
“To confess!”
Mrs. Lambert’s face was white as snow; her lips grew cold, and her voice failed.
“Confess, or confide. I am willing to use the softer term,” answered Ross, touched, in spite of himself, by those contracted features.
“But I have nothing to confess, or confide—nothing!”
Ross turned away, bitterly disappointed. Something he had evidently hoped to learn from the lady, which she either did not understand, or purposely avoided.