Her soft voice faltered a little, and she paused. Bertha turned and looked her unflinchingly in the face.
"I—have not suffered," she said.
Agnes spoke as simply as before.
"I have," she said.
Bertha turned sharply away.
"I was afraid so," was her response.
"If we are to be as near to each other as I hope," Agnes continued, "it would be useless for me to try to conceal from you the one thing which has made me what I am. The effort to hide it would always stand between us and our confidence in each other. It is much simpler to let you know the truth."
She put her hands up to her face an instant, and Bertha broke the silence with a curiously incisive question.
"Was he very cruel to you?"
Agnes withdrew her hands, and if her shadow of a smile had not been so infinitely sad, it would have been bitter.