Lona.
What do you think has brought me home just now?
Bernick.
Whatever you have in mind, I implore you to do nothing before I have justified myself. I can do it, Lona; at least I can show that I was not altogether to blame.
Lona.
Now you are frightened.—You once loved me, you say? Yes, you assured me so, often enough, in your letters; and perhaps it was true, too—after a fashion—so long as you were living out there in a great, free world, that gave you courage to think freely and greatly yourself. Perhaps you found in me a little more character, and will, and independence than in most people at home here. And then it was a secret between us two; no one could make fun of your bad taste.
Bernick.
Lona, how can you think——?
Lona.
But when you came home; when you saw the ridicule that poured down upon me; when you heard the laughter at what were called my eccentricities——