The Fruit of the Tree

by Edith Wharton

"You thought it all over, then—decided definitely against telling me?"

"I did not have to think long. I felt I had done right—I still feel so—and I was sure you would feel so, if you were in the same circumstances."

There was another pause. Then Amherst said: "And last September—at Hanaford?"

It was the word for which she had waited—the word of her inmost fears. She felt the blood mount to her face.

"Did you see no difference—no special reason for telling me then?"

"Yes——" she faltered.

"Yet you said nothing."

"No."

Silence again. Her eyes strayed to the clock, and some dim association of ideas told her that Cicely would soon be coming in.

"Why did you say nothing?"