She shuddered, and stood rigid. In that moment they fell apart, never to be reconciled again.
“I warn you not to speak it,” she said—“not till you know the thing you’ve done, the lives you’ve ruined, the broken faiths for which you made yourself answerable to God when you threatened me with that coward’s act. Before you pledged me I was already pledged—my heart, my soul. You did not know it—I have accepted this heavy punishment for heaven’s retribution on me for that sin of silence. I accept it no longer. Love’s honour and love’s vows would, I know, have counted for nothing with my father. But they still hold me to the past for all my faith is worth. We had met by accident—we had no thought, O! no thought to deceive you—only we delayed, forgetting in our happiness. He was a Monsieur Saint-Péray—a name as noble as the man himself—too good and true for such as we to honour. And I broke my faith to him, and you were the cause.”
He raised his hand, gasping. She went on, before he could speak:—
“I tell you now there is no man, shall never be to me in all the world a man with claims like his. If he would have me, the stained and humbled thing I am, I would give myself, in tears and gratitude, to redeem his broken past. But I am unworthy of him; and you have made me so.”
Then he spoke—a babble of raging words. But his lips forbore the curse—perhaps from real apprehension, perhaps from policy. He was not one to burn his boats, even in a fit of madness. In the end, he fell, quite suddenly, upon self-control, and stood like a shaking spectre of himself.
“Very well,” he said—“it is very well. You are your own mistress. You will wed this man, this saintly paramour of yours, if he will consent to make an honest woman of you. I have no more to say.”
“No,” she answered: “you have said the last.”
He stood a moment uncertain, turned, and left the room.
She remained motionless as he had left her—a minute, two minutes: then suddenly was looking about her with a curious quick action of the head.
Hunted! alone! quite desolate! Where could she turn for help, support? O, God! the wickedness—the wickedness! Save her someone!—she could hear the hideous panting of the chase—quite close! she—!