"It cannot be like the pain I feel now," he answered simply.
She realised that what he said was true. Then she told him the whole story, as she knew it. And so, in a few hours, the conversation Ghisleri had held with Gouache began to bear fruit in a direction where neither of them had suspected it possible that their words could penetrate.
Arden had allowed himself to sink into a chair at Laura's side, and he listened with half-closed eyes and folded hands while she spoke. Under ordinary circumstances he would probably have betrayed some emotion, and might have interrupted her with a question or two, but the terrible excitement of the last few minutes was followed by a reaction, and he felt himself growing colder and calmer every moment, while his heart, which had been beating furiously when he had first spoken to her, seemed now about to stand still. As she proceeded, however, he was aware of the most conflicting feelings of happiness and anger—the latter of the quiet and dangerous sort. He saw at once that he had been utterly mistaken in doubting Laura's love, and from that direction peace descended upon his heart; but when he heard what the world was saying of her, he felt that weak as he was, he had the sudden strength to dare and do anything to avenge the insult. He was human enough, too, to resent bitterly the story about himself, though that, after all, was but a secondary affair in comparison with the gossip about Laura.
When she had finished, he rose slowly, and sat upon the arm of her easy-chair, drawing her head to his shoulder. He kissed her hair tenderly.
"My beloved—can you forgive me?" he asked, in a very gentle voice. "My darling—that I should have doubted you!"
"I am glad you did, dear—this once," she answered. "You see how it is. You are all the world to me—the mere thought that any one can hurt you by word or deed—oh, it drives me mad!"
And she, who was usually so very calm and collected, again made that desperate gesture with her hands, as though she had them on a woman's throat and would strangle out the life of her in the grip of her firm fingers.
"As for me, it matters little enough," said Arden, taking her hands and stroking them as though to soothe her anger. "Of course it is an absurd and disgusting story, and I suppose some people believe it. But what they say of you is a very different matter."
"I do not think so," broke in Laura, indignantly. "Of course every one knows that we love each other, and that it is all a lie—but when such a tale is started about a man—that he drinks—oh, it is too utterly vile!"
"Dear—shall we try and forget it? At least for this evening. Let us do our best. You have made me so happy in another way—I suffered in that moment very much."