"Then there never was cause for him to fear?" Laetitia whispered.
Clara slid her head more out of sight. "Not that my heart . . . But I said I have seen it; and it is unworthy of him. And if, as I think now, I could have been so rash, so weak, wicked, unpardonable—such thoughts were in me!—then to hear him speak would make it necessary for me to uncover myself and tell him—incredible to you, yes!—that while . . . yes, Laetitia, all this is true: and thinking of him as the noblest of men, I could have welcomed any help to cut my knot. So there," said Clara, issuing from her nest with winking eyelids, "you see the pain I mentioned."
"Why did you not explain it to me at once?"
"Dearest, I wanted a century to pass."
"And you feel that it has passed?"
"Yes; in Purgatory—with an angel by me. My report of the place will be favourable. Good angel, I have yet to say something."
"Say it, and expiate."
"I think I did fancy once or twice, very dimly, and especially to-day . . . properly I ought not to have had any idea: but his coming to me, and his not doing as another would have done, seemed . . . A gentleman of real nobleness does not carry the common light for us to read him by. I wanted his voice; but silence, I think, did tell me more: if a nature like mine could only have had faith without bearing the rattle of a tongue."
A knock at the door caused the ladies to exchange looks. Laetitia rose as Vernon entered.
"I am just going to my father for a few minutes," she said.