“Well, yes, suppose it is so,” he said with a sigh.
Maxime raised his hands to heaven, and said in a tone of painful conviction,—
“In that case you are right. You ought to inquire; for you may be close upon a terrible misfortune.”
“Ah, is she really so formidable?”
Maxime shrugged his shoulders, as if he were impatient at being called upon to prove a well-known fact, and said,—
“I should think so.”
There seemed to be no reason why Daniel should persist in his questions after that. Those words ought to have been explanation enough. Nevertheless he said in a subdued voice,—
“Pray explain, Maxime! Don’t you know, that, as I lead a very quiet life, I know nothing?”
Brevan, looking more serious than he had ever done, rose and replied, leaning against the mantlepiece,—
“What would you have me tell you? It is only fools who call out to lovers to beware; and to warn a man who will not be warned, is useless. Are you really in love with Miss Sarah, or are you not? If you are, nothing that I could say would change your mind. Suppose I were to tell you that this Sarah is a wretched creature, an infamous forger, who has already the death of three poor devils on her conscience, who loved her as you do? Suppose I told you worse things than these, and could prove them? Do you know what would happen? You would press my hand with effusion. You would overwhelm me with thanks, tears in your eye. You would vow, in the candor of your heart, that you are forever cured, and, when you leave me”—