“And what did he think of you?” demanded Brood scornfully.
“If you had not come upon us here he would have known me for who I am, and he would have forgiven me. I had asked him to go away with me. He refused. Then I was about to tell him the whole story of my life, of his life, and of yours. Do you think he would have refused forgiveness to me? No! He would have understood.”
“But up to that hour he thought of you as—what shall I say?”
“A bad woman? Perhaps. I did not care. It was part of the price I was to pay in advance. I would have told him everything as soon as the ship on which we sailed was outside the harbour yonder. That was my intention, and I know you believe me when I say that there was nothing more in my mind. Time would have straightened everything out for him. He could have had his Lydia, even though he went away with me. Once away from here, do you think that he would ever return? No! Even though he knew you to be his father, he would not forget that he has never been your son. You have hurt him since he was a babe. Would he forget? Would he forgive? No! When you came into this room and found us, I was about to go down on my knees to him to thank him for saving me from my own designs. I realised then, as I had come to suspect in the past few months, that I had not counted on my own conscience.
“James, I—I would not have carried out my plan. I had faltered, and my cause was lost. What have I accomplished? Am I able to gloat over you? What have I wrought, after all? I weakened under the love she bore for you, I permitted it to creep in and fill my heart. Do you understand? I do not hate you now. It is something to know that you have worshipped her all these years. You were true to her. What you did long, long ago was not your fault. You believed that she had wronged you. But you went on loving her. That is what weakened my resolve. You loved her to the end, she loved you to the end. Well, in the face of that, could I go on hating you? You must have been worthy of her love. She knew you better than all the world. You came to me with love for her in your heart. You took me, and you loved her all the time. I am not sure, James, that you are not entitled to this miserable, unhappy love I have come to feel for you—my own love, not Matilde's.”
“You are saying this so that I may refrain from throwing you out into the street———”
“No!” she cried, coming to her feet. “I shall ask nothing of you. If I am to go, it shall be because I have failed. I have been a blind, vainglorious fool. The trap has caught me instead of you, and I shall take the consequences. I have lost everything!”
“You have lost everything,” said he steadily.
“'You despise me?”
“I cannot ask you to stay here after this.”