“It was no fault of hers,” said Rachel, sadly.
“I wish I could feel it so.”
“That was a mere chance. The rest was my own doing.”
“Aided and abetted by more than one looker-on.”
“No. It is I who am accountable,” she said, repeating Mr. Grey’s words.
“You accept the whole?”
It was his usual, cool, dry tone; but as she replied, “I must,” she involuntarily looked up, with a glance of entreaty to be spared, and she met those dark, grey, heavy-lidded eyes fixed on her with so much concern as almost to unnerve her.
“You cannot,” he answered; “every bystander must rue the apathy that let you be so cruelly deceived, for want of exertion on their part.”
“Nay,” she said; “you tried to open my eyes. I think this would have come worse, but for this morning’s stroke.”
“Thank you,” he said, earnestly.