The girl drew back, frightened by the agony in his voice, and he moved to the fireplace, leaning one arm on it for support, with his face turned from her.
“Tell me what happened,” he said, after a brief pause.
Margery drew a quick breath, and then, in a low, sad voice, she spoke of her sorrow at Mary Morris’ death, her trouble because of his accident, her meeting with Sir Douglas Gerant, and the words he had spoken. Then she told him of Robert Bright’s proposal, and of the sorrow and agony of Vane’s visit, the result of which was that she determined to leave the village at once, and to that end sought the help of Miss Lawson. A few sad words told of Enid’s death and her marriage.
Stuart never moved during the recital; his heart seemed turned to stone. He dared not think of his love—the misery of his loss maddened him; it was of the treachery and cruelty he thought; and his brain whirled at the memory.
“And you believed that of me?” he asked, almost mechanically.
“It seemed so true,” murmured the girl, wistfully; then, pressing her hands together, she whispered: “And it was not?”
“It was false from beginning to end!”
Their eyes met, and a shudder passed over each. Margery felt her heart grow cold as ice, a lump rise in her throat.
“We were deceived,” she said, faintly.
“Yes.”