“Worth!” she said. “No, not Worth! I am asking you! What have you done to Perry? Answer me!”
“Judith, I swear to you I know no more than you do what has become of him! I had no hand in that. What do I care for Peregrine, or his fortune? Have I proved myself so false that you can believe that of me? It is you I want, have wanted from the day I first saw you! I never meant it to be like this, but what could I do, what other course was open to me? Nothing I could have said would have prevented you from going to London with Audley, and once you were in his and Worth’s hands, what hope had I of saving you from that iniquitous marriage? Again and again I have warned you not to trust Worth, but you have not heeded me! Then came Peregrine’s disappearance, and once more you would not listen to me. Even so, I should have shrunk from taking this step had I not seen the marriage-licence in Audley’s possession. But I knew then that if I was to save you from being the victim of Worth’s fiendish schemes I must act drastically—treacherously, if you will!—but yet because I love you!”
She sank down on a chair beside the table, and buried her face in her hands. “What does that matter?” she asked. “I do not know whether you are speaking the truth or not; I do not care. Perry is all that signifies.” Her hands fell; she stretched them out to him. “Cousin, whatever you have done I can forgive, if you will only tell me Perry is not dead!”
He went down on his knees by her chair, grasping her hands. “I cannot tell you. I do not know. It was not I who made away with him. Perhaps he is not dead; if you will marry me we will—”
“Marry you!” she cried. “I shall never marry you!”
He rose and walked away from her to the window. With his back to her he said: “You must marry me.”
She stared at him. “Are you mad?”
He shook his head. “Not mad. Desperate.”
She said nothing. She was looking about her as though she had just realized the significance of this cottage, lost in the Weald. After a moment he said in a quieter tone: “I must try to make you understand.”
“I do understand,” she said. The fingers of her right hand clenched and unclenched. “I understand why I was not to leave a message for Mrs. Scattergood, why you would not change horses on the road. The woman who lives in this place—is she in your pay?”