May lay silent for a few minutes, and then said softly:
“It seems very cruel of him to strike me like that, but he had been true to me, Claire, and I was so weak I couldn’t be true to him, and he is not like us; he is foreign, and loves and hates so passionately. It made him angry and mad against me. As soon as I saw him in the street, after I had written to ask Sir Harry to take me away, I knew there was danger, and I tried so hard to escape. I felt obliged then. Sir Harry had often before begged me to go, but I never would.”
“Hush! May, I beg of you.”
“No: I must talk,” said May. “I will speak softly so that it shall not hurt me much; but I want to be made happy by telling you everything and getting you to freely forgive me.”
“I do—I do freely forgive you, everything, May, dear sister,” whispered Claire, “and you must get well quickly, so that we may go far away from here, and begin life afresh.”
“Yes,” said May, with a peculiar smile, “far away, and begin life afresh.”
Claire saw her peculiar look, and held her tightly to her breast.
“Yes,” said May softly, “it means that, dear. I’ve always been like a spoiled child. Poor papa has made me his idol, and I’ve been so weak and foolish. I can see it all now, since I have been ill. Claire, I hope they will not take poor Louis and punish him for this.”
“No, no, dear; he has gone far away; but pray, pray, say no more.”
“I must,” she said smiling. “I have wasted so much time that I cannot spare a moment now. Ah, Claire, if I had been like you!”