"How did she behave? Tell me—what did she say?" said Arthur, with almost feverish anxiety.
"She bade me remember, that those who dare to love must dare to suffer. She told me that the wounded stag, 'that from the hunter's aim has ta'en a hurt,' must endure to live, 'left and abandoned of his velvet friends.'—And she told me true. I have not all her courage; but I will take a lesson from her, and learn to suffer—quietly, without a word, if that be possible."
"Then you did propose to her?"
"No; hardly that. I cannot tell what I said myself; but 'twas thus she answered me."
"But what do you mean by taking a lesson from her? Has she any such suffering?"
"Nay! You may ask her. I did not."
"But you said so just now; at any rate you left me to infer it. Is there any one whom Adela Gauntlet really loves?"
George Bertram did not answer the question at once. He had plighted his word to her as her friend that he would keep her secret; and then, moreover, that secret had become known to him by mere guesses. He had no right, by any law, to say it as a fact that Adela Gauntlet was not heart-whole. But still he thought that he would say so. Why should he not do something towards making these two people happy?
"Do you believe that Adela is really in love with any one?" repeated Arthur.
"If I tell you that, will you tell me this—Are you in love with any one—you yourself?"