'But tell me—tell me What did she say?'
'That on coming to yourself you did not know of your father's death.'
'It is true; I did not. My illness began before.'
Wilfrid stood with his eyes on the ground.
'Tell me, again,' she said. 'What else did Mrs. Baxendale say?'
'Nothing. Her surprise when she heard this from your mother was as great as mine when it was repeated to me.'
'It is true,' Emily repeated, more calmly, as if relieved. 'I don't try to conceal that there is a reason I may not speak of. Will you not believe that it is strong enough to change my life? If I did not tell you this, you might indeed refuse to listen to me, thinking I was not myself. I cannot tell you more—I cannot, I cannot!'
She pressed her palms upon her forehead; it throbbed with pain scarcely to be borne. Wilfrid, after a moment of wretched hesitation, said gravely:
'What you forbid me to ask, I may not even wish to know. I have come to regard your will as the seal upon everything that is true and right. Knowing this, seeing me here before you with my best hopes at stake, do you tell me that something has happened which makes the bond between us of no effect, which lays upon you a duty superior to that of the pledge you gave me?'
She met his gaze, and answered firmly, 'I do.'