She spoke, gazing frontward all the while. The pace she maintained in no degree impeded the concentrated passion of her utterance.
But it was a more difficult task for him, going at that pace, to make explanations, and she was exquisitely fair to behold! The falling beams touched her with a mellow sweetness that kindled bleeding memories.
“If I defend myself?” he said.
“No. All I ask is that you should Accuse me. Let me know what I have done—done, that I have not been bitterly punished for? What is it? what is it? Why do you inflict a torture on me whenever you see me? Not by word, not by look. You are too subtle in your cruelty to give me anything I can grasp. You know how you wound me. And I am alone.”
“That is supposed to account for my behaviour?”
She turned her face to him. “Oh, Major blaring! say nothing unworthy of yourself. That would be a new pain to me.”
He bowed. In spite of a prepossessing anger, some little softness crept through his heart.
“You may conceive that I have dropped my pride,” she said. “That is the case, or my pride is of a better sort.”
“Madam, I fully hope and trust,” said he.
“And believe,” she added, twisting his words to the ironic tongue. “You certainly must believe that my pride has sunk low. Did I ever speak to you in this manner before?”