“You believed that, didn’t you?” he asked.
“How could I help believing it?”
“Ah! that shows a trust in me! Well, Mary did not believe it. Mary told me that I loved you.”
“And do you?” cried Camelia. She took her hand away, sat upright, and faced him. Perior was forced to smile a little at the baldness of his answering, “I do, Camelia.”
“You did not know till——”
“Oh, I knew all along,” Perior confessed, interrupting her. Camelia’s eyes widened immensely as she took in the astounding revelation. He replied to their silent interrogations with “I have been a wretched hypocrite. How I convinced you of the lie I don’t know.”
“And you told that to Mary.” He saw now that her gaze passed him, ignored him and his revelation in its personal bearing.
“I told her the truth. It did not hurt her. She was far above such hurts. You had showed her that you were worthy of any love. To share her secret made her happy.”
“Happy! Oh, Mary! Mary!” Camelia murmured, looking away from him. “It must have hurt,” she added. “Ah, it must have hurt.”
“She was as capable of nobility as you—that was all.”