[CHAPTER XXXVI.]
"ONLY YOU AND I, DARLING, ONLY YOU AND I."
The horror of this infamous statement so completely overwhelmed her that she lost the power of speech. The room swam before her; in her excitement she had risen to her feet, and her slight form swayed like a reed in the throes of a pitiless storm. Presently Leonard spoke again, and his voice brought some clearness to her distracted mind; but every word he uttered cut into her heart like a sharp knife.
"If you are not sufficiently composed to hear what it is my duty to say, I will leave you and come again in an hour."
She motioned to him to remain, and her trembling hands then stretched themselves toward a bottle of water on the table. He poured some into a glass, which he placed close to her. Rallying a little she managed to raise the glass to her lips, and to drink, the cold draught revived her fainting senses.
"Speak," she said. "Say what you have to say."
"Had my brother lived," said Leonard, "the time would have come when he would have been compelled to make the disclosure himself. Being gone, the duty which was his devolves upon me. It may be that he would have righted the wrong he did you, for he was weak and easily prevailed upon. I do not seek to excuse him, and it is certain that he acted as he deemed best when he deceived you. Are you attending to me? Shall I go on?"
"Yes," she gasped, "go on."
"When you were lying at death's door in the village to which you had flown, the name of which you probably remember--" He purposely paused here, to afford her an opportunity of answering him.
"I do not remember it," she said. "If I heard it, it has gone from me. My mind was a blank."