Chris felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat. Somehow the tenderness of her husband's love hurt her more than it comforted just then. She knew that he had absented himself and deputed Noel to wait upon her because he had divined that she would prefer it. His intuition frightened her also. Was he beginning to divine other things as well? Recalling his intent look of the night before, the wonder struck chill to her heart. Yes, she was thankful that he had gone; but it would be horribly hard to meet him again after she and Bertrand had said good-bye. Aunt Philippa's departure, eagerly though she had anticipated it, would make it harder. Very soon Noel also would be gone, and they would be alone together. How would she keep her secret then? How hide her soul from those grave, keen eyes that probed so deeply?
Ah! but he trusted her; he trusted her! Back to the old sheet-anchor flew her whirling thoughts. His faith in her was invincible, unassailable. It kept her safe. It sheltered her from every danger. It was her single safeguard in temptation; without it she would be lost.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and leaned from the window to give her brother the instructions he awaited.
Turning back into the room, she found a note in her husband's handwriting lying on her table. She took it up.
"I do not forbid you to see Bertrand," it ran, "though I think you would be wiser not to do so. I have already taken leave of him. He refuses to be open with me, so there is no more to be said. It is by his own wish that he is leaving to-day. As I said to you last night, I shall take no legal steps against him, but that does not alter the fact that he is a criminal, and for that reason your friendship with him must cease. I am sorry, but it is inevitable. I think you will see it for yourself by and bye, but till then my prohibition must be enough. I cannot be disobeyed in this matter. Bear it in mind, dear, and believe that, even though I may seem hard, I am acting for your welfare, which is more to me than anything else on earth.
"Yours,
TREVOR."
Her face was white and strained as she read the note through. She seemed to hear her husband's quiet voice in every sentence. Never till that moment had she fully realized the fact that he had the right thus to guide and restrain her actions. Never till that moment had she found her will in direct opposition to his. A sudden passion of rebellion swept upon her, possessed her. It was intolerable, impossible; she could not submit to the mandate.
To give up her friend—the dear knight of her girlhood's dreams—to see him never again, to close her heart to him, to shut out the very memory of him, to take up her life without him—no, never, never, never! Her throbbing heart cried out against it. It was not to be borne. A fury akin to hatred surged up within her. There was no man living who could make her do this thing.
Fiercely she tore the paper across and across, and flung the fragments from her. Never would she consent to this! She would defy him sooner!
Defy him! It was as if a voice spoke suddenly in her soul, asking a quiet question. Could she defy him and still hide her secret? Would not the steady eyes read her through and through the instant that her will resisted his? Would he not know in a moment? Was it not even possible that he had begun already to suspect?