At last, after what seemed an eternity to Stephen, who was watching her in the glass, she broke open the envelope and read.
Not twice, but thrice she read it, as if she meant to engrave every line on her heart, then she thrust the letter in her bosom and came back to the fire.
Stephen turned, and with a low cry of alarm at sight of her altered face, moved toward her; but she put up her hand to keep him back.
Altered! Not only in face but in bravery. A minute ago she had been a gentle-hearted, suffering, tortured girl, now she was an injured, deserted woman.
“Thanks,” she said, and the words fell like ice from her lips. “You spoke of an explanation. Will you tell me all you know, Stephen?”
“Pray—not now,” he murmured. “Tomorrow——”
But she stopped him with a smile, awful to see in its utter despair and unnatural calmness.
“Now, please.”
“It—it is too easy of explanation,” said Stephen hoarsely. “He was tempted and he has fallen. He has bartered his honor for gold. Ask me no more.”
Una drew a long breath.