“I 'm certain of it. I feel assured that he must be a cheerful companion, and reasonably honest and loyal in his dealings with man. He is of a class that reserve all their treachery and all their baseness for where they can be safely practised; and, strange enough, men of honor know these things,—men of unquestionable honor associate freely with fellows of this stamp, as if the wrong done to a woman was a venial offence, if offence at all.”
“The way of the world,” said OShea, with a half sigh.
“Pleasant philosophy that so easily accounts for every baseness and even villany by showing that they are popular. But come, let us be practical. What's to be done here?—what do you suggest?”
“Give me the right to deal with him, and leave the settlement to me.”
“The right—that is—” She hesitated, flushed up for an instant, and then grew lividly pale again.
“Yes,” said he, taking his place at her side, and leaning an arm on the back of her chair, “I thought I never saw your equal when you were gay and light-hearted, and full of spirits; but I like you better, far better now, and I 'd rather face the world with you than—”
“I don't want to deceive you,” said she, hurriedly, and her lips quivered as she spoke; “but there are things which I cannot tell you,—things of which I could not speak to any one, least of all to him who says he is willing to share his fate with me. It is a hard condition to make, and yet I must make it.”
“Put your hand in mine, then, and I 'll take you on any conditions you like.”
“One word more before we close our bargain. It might so happen—it is far from unlikely—that the circumstances of which I dare not trust myself to utter a syllable may come to your ears when I am your wife, when it will be impossible for you to treat them as calumnies, and just as idle to say that you never heard of them before. How will you act if such a moment comes?”
“Answer me one plain question first. Is there any man living who has power over you—except as regards these letters, I mean?”