“The chance that I told you of when he came to my help, enabled me to see a good deal of him, and I felt sure that it would be given to me to have my dearest wish realised—to see you happy by the side of a man who adored you and who could appreciate the beauty of your nature. Alas! I was disappointed. Instead of earning my respect by his constancy to the sentiment of love—constancy to that ideal of love which I believed he could appreciate—he has earned my contempt.”
“Ah, no—not contempt!” she cried almost piteously.
“Why not contempt?” he said. “I tell you that in giving himself to that woman—he confessed to me that he was going to marry her—he has earned my contempt and yours.”
“No, ’tis not true. I love him and he loves me!” she cried. “Ah, you should spare him—you should spare him!”
“Why should I spare him? He is worthy only of contempt.”
“No, no! he is to be pitied—only pitied. Do not be hard on him: he did it because he loved me.”
CHAPTER XXXIV
And now the girl was sitting looking up with dry eyes to the face of the man who had sprung from her side the moment she had spoken, and was standing a yard or two away from her. She saw that, although the words which she had spoken had sent him to his feet in an instant, he now felt that he had perhaps been too hasty. She saw that there was a puzzled look on his face. She did not wait for him to put a question to her. She perceived that her explanation needed to be explained. It is unusual, she thought, for a man to ask a woman to marry him simply because he loves another woman.