“You had better ask what he was before you married him.”
She did not shrink, as he expected. Her breath came quickly, but unshaken confidence was in her face.
“I know my husband.”
“Then, go!” He waved his hand. “Go!”
“I am going, and I shall try not to be angry, because you are not yourself.”
He looked up gloomily.
“No; I am not myself. I don’t expect ever to be myself again. Before this, I have always held up my head; but now—” He drooped again into depression; and her heart smote her.
“Father, fling away this horrible, unjust suspicion!” she cried, coming close, and laying her hands on his shoulders. “It does Léon such cruel harm! Only reflect what it means. One would suppose you were his enemy.” Then she knelt down by his side. “Father!”
“Let him disprove it.”
“So he will.”