"Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp because they come with justice."
"Oh," broke out the woman, "one may use sharp words who has been scorned for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must remember that it is only what remains after that—that—"
"But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?"
"Oh, 'if!'"
"Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'—these are all we have to console us in this life. But, sweet one—"
"Sir, such words I have forbidden," said Lady Catharine, the blood for one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.
"You torture me!" broke out Law.
"As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?"
He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. "As I have done this thing, so may God punish me!" said he. "I was not fit, and am not. Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some thing—if my suffering—"
"There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not leave me for a time untroubled?"