“Was he not your love,” she whispered—“him that came with you?”
And I answered, “He was my love.”
“Was—was,” she repeated. “Well—I see. They take other fancies.”
“You was sold yourself—is it not true?” I muttered.
“Ay,” she answered, and sighed. “But it was for gold.”
“You can forgive, then, and forget,” I said; “but not I—no, never.”
“You would ruin him?”
“Yes, and her.”
“Bring him to the gallows?”
“That is why I sent for you. You can trust me.”