‘Do you know who are the parents of the child?’
Lizzie was silent.
‘I see that you do. Surely they will never permit you innocently to bear this awful shame?’
‘Captain Norris, when my father first showed me that child, he extracted a solemn oath from me never to reveal anything I knew or might guess concerning it. It is useless your questioning me. My tongue is tied, and whatever my silence may cost me, I am bound to endure.’
‘But surely your lover, De Courcelles, does not believe this slanderous lie about you, Lizzie? He will stand up in your defence, whatever the world may say, and fight it with you?’
‘Oh, don’t talk of him! Don’t mention his name!’ cried Lizzie, with a sudden burst of grief. ‘He does believe it, Captain Norris, and he has cast me off. We are parted for ever. Our engagement is at an end.’
‘The cur!’ exclaimed Norris contemptuously.
‘You shall not call him so! What else could he do?’ rejoined Lizzie hastily. ‘What would you do, if the woman you had engaged yourself to marry, proved to be a wanton? You would say she was not fit to be your wife, and you would be right. Until this stigma is lifted off me, I am not fit to become the wife of any honest man.’
‘But it does not rest upon you, in my estimation,’ replied her companion. ‘I do not believe it; no one should ever make me do so except yourself. I would take your word against that of a thousand witnesses, Lizzie.’
‘Thank you, thank you!’ she exclaimed, reddening with pleasure at the sound of his honest voice. ‘You are indeed a friend in the time of need. But Monsieur de Courcelles thinks otherwise. He has told me to my face that unless I will divulge the names of the parents of this child, everything between us must be at an end. And so it is at an end. I cannot break my word to the dead. Besides—there are other reasons why I should be true to my trust.’