"Ah, is that it? Perhaps I could tell you something of one Helena von Ritz. Is it not so?"
"Yes, that was the property of Helena von Ritz," I told her, looking her fairly in the eye.
"Kind of you, indeed, to involve me, as you say, with a lady of her precedents!"
Now her color was up full, and her words came crisply. Had I had adequate knowledge of women, I could have urged her on then, and brought on a full-fledged quarrel. Strategically, that must have been a far happier condition than mere indifference on her part. But I did not know; and my accursed love of fairness blinded me.
"I hardly think any one is quite just to that lady," said I slowly.
"Except Mr. Nicholas Trist! A beautiful and accomplished lady, I doubt not, in his mind."
"Yes, all of that, I doubt not."
"And quite kind with her little gifts."
"Elisabeth, I can not well explain all that to you. I can not, on my honor."
"Do not!" she cried, putting out her hand as though in alarm. "Do not invoke your honor!" She looked at me again. I have never seen a look like hers. She had been calm, cold, and again indignant, all in a moment's time. That expression which now showed on her face was one yet worse for me.