“And you enlightened her?”
“Of course I did not. I finessed in the most admirable way.”
“So you have known it all the time; and ever since you have been looking upon me as a liar and impostor?”
“No, indeed, my girl. I knew you were bound by a secret not your own; that you were trying to be loyal to a trust.”
“Felix—it was that, but not only that. I dreaded horribly that the truth might repel you.”
“You thought me no better than a snob, in fact?”
“O, no, no! I thought only that you would despise one who could so lie to you! And then—your own origin—I used to cry to myself over your scorn of the people. Felix——!” her arms tightened, a desperate pain came into her eyes—“I am a child of the people myself.” She paused an instant—“Doesn’t it make you hate me?”
“That is foolish, Fifine,” I said gravely; “and very wrong to our understanding. What have I ever said to justify such an assumption in you?”
“O, forgive me, Felix, forgive me, forgive me! You don’t know what my mind has suffered.”
“I do not scorn the people, child; and, if I did, what has love to do with social differences? And, if there are any such between us here, the credit for the best is yours. I love every individual part of you; your wit, your intelligence, and your manners, as well as your pretty body. Now, what may I ask you and what may I not?”