"Mr. Murray, it was a confidence which I never solicited, which has caused me much pain, because it necessitated concealment from your mother, but which—God is my witness—I have not betrayed. There is the key, but of the contents of the tomb I know nothing. It was ungenerous in you to tempt a child as you did; to offer a premium as it were for a violation of secrecy, by whetting my curiosity and then placing in my own hands the means of gratifying it. Of course I have wondered what the mystery was, and why you selected me for its custodian; and I have often wished to inspect the interior of that marble cabinet; but child though I was, I think I would have gone to the stake sooner than violate my promise."
As he took the key she observed that his hand trembled and that a sudden pallor overspread his face.
"Edna Earl, I give you one last chance to be truthful with me. If you yielded to the temptation—and what woman, what girl, would not?—it would be no more than I really expected, and you will scarcely have disappointed me; for, as I told you, I put no faith in you. But even if you succumbed to a natural curiosity, be honest and confess it!"
She looked up steadily into his inquisitorial eyes, and answered:
"I have nothing to confess."
He laid his hand heavily on her shoulder, and his tone was eager, vehement, pleading, tremulous:
"Can you look me in the eye—so—and say that you never put this key in yonder lock? Edna! more hangs on your words than you dream of. Be truthful! as if you were indeed in the presence of the God you worship. I can forgive you for prying into my affairs, but I can not and will not pardon you for trifling with me now."
"I never unlocked the vault; I never had the key near it but once—about a week ago—when I found the tomb covered with cobwebs, and twisted the key partly into the hole to drive out the spider. I give you my most solemn assurance that I never unlocked it, never saw the interior. Your suspicions are ungenerous and unjust—derogatory to you and insulting to me."
"The proof is at hand, and if I have indeed unjustly suspected you, atonement full and ample shall be made."
Clasping one of her hands so firmly that she could not extricate it, he drew her before the Taj Mahal, and stooping, fitted the key to the lock. There was a dull click as he turned it, but even then he paused and scrutinized her face. It was flushed, and wore a proud, defiant, grieved look; his own was colorless as the marble that reflected it, and she felt the heavy, rapid beating of his blood, and saw the cords thickening on his brow.