"Nay, nay," cried Rochester, "that is hardly fair. What two men will say to one another often bears no repeating."
"The man that cannot confide in me, does not love me," rejoined the Countess, withdrawing her hand, and moving further from him.
"Well, but you know I love you," answered Rochester.
"Then prove it, by telling me what he said," cried the Countess. "If you do not, I shall think you are false and forsworn, and are inclined to follow his counsel and marry some one else.--Yes, yes, I see it very well.--He has succeeded with thee, Rochester, and thou art inclined to seek another bride.--Well, it matters not; I should soon learn to forget the man who would not trust me."
"Nonsense, nonsense, sweet girl!" he replied; "you are jealous without cause. I am all your own--your slave--your captive."
"Then tell me what he said," exclaimed the Countess, suffering a portion of her natural vehemence to appear, even to him.
"But you will be angry," rejoined Rochester. "Why should I tell you what will only pain, grieve, and offend you, and which had no more effect upon me than the idle wind?"
"Because I wish to know," she exclaimed. "Because I must know, if I am to have peace or rest. I will not be angry; and I will try to be as little grieved as possible; for if I find men speak ill of me, and bark at me with their foul tongue, I will recollect that it is all for Rochester, and that shall be my consolation."
"Well, then," said Rochester, "if you will not be angry, he did oppose my marriage with you in vehement and rough terms,"--and her lover went on weakly to tell her almost all that his friend had said.
He strove to soften it, 'tis true--to put it in general terms, and to conceal the harsh epithets that Overbury had used; but the Countess would hear all, and with instant perception discovered whenever he tried to deceive her in a word. She kept her temper, too, to the end, sometimes urging him playfully, and affecting to laugh at the rude terms which Overbury had used towards her--sometimes pressing him gravely to deal fairly by her, and to speak the truth--sometimes suggesting the words herself in a gay tone, as if she were sure that those were the epithets he had given her, and cared little for them. But when the whole story was told, her fierce indignation burst forth.