In a moment Harry's heightened colour died from his face.
"Miss Aylwin, I did not say that!" he exclaimed earnestly. "Forgive me if I have said anything that hurt you. But, indeed, I did not say that."
Evie looked at him a moment. She knew the thing which she had so much desired not to know, but the knowledge, strangely enough, did not frighten or affect her.
"No; in justice to you, I will say that you did not. But you broke out, 'It is monstrous,' when I told you I knew the story."
Again the colour rose to his face, but now not vehement, only ashamed.
"I did," he said; "it is quite true. I spoke violently and unjustifiably. But if you knew my poor uncle, Miss Aylwin, I do not think you would find it hard to forgive me; you would see at once why I spoke so hastily. He is the kindest and best of men, and the most soft-hearted. Think what that suspicion must have been to him, the years, so many of them and all so bitter, in which it has never been cleared up!"
"I do think," she said softly, "and I like you for your violence, Lord Vail. You are loyal; it is no bad thing to be loyal. But——" and she looked up at him, "but you must not think that I am a willing listener to gossip and old scandal that does not concern me."
"I do not think that," cried Harry. "Indeed, I never thought that."
His words rang out and died on the hot air, and still the girl made no answer. This way and that was her mind divided: should she tell him all, should she tell him nothing? The latter was the easier path, for his last words had the ring of truth in them, convincing, unmistakable, and she, so to speak, was acquitted without a stain on her character, did she decide not to speak. But something within her, intangible and imperative, urged other counsels. Her reason gave her no account of these, but simple instinct only called to her. What prompted that instinct, from what deep and vital source it rose, she did not pause to consider. Simply, it was there, with reason warring on the other side. The battle was brief and momentous. Immediately, almost, she spoke.
"I am sure you never thought that," she said, "but I wish"—and her pulse ticked full and rapid—"I wish to prove to you how it was not through gossip that the knowledge came to me, for this is how I heard it: My mother was Harold Harmsworth's mother."