A frail smile outlined itself at the corner of her mouth, then disappeared, as if to leave the purity of her motionless features undisturbed. She went on, while he said nothing, subdued by the mysterious potency that spread around her:
“No, I shall not forget that you have chosen the hour of my greatest distress to come to me.”
He mourned over her like a child. “I love you.”
“I must not love any more, Raymond. I have heard another call than yours. I’m going to tell you a secret that no one knows, not even my father. I don’t hesitate to tell it to you. Keep it for me. When I lost my mother I promised God to take her place in our home that has been so ravaged by misfortune.”
“Haven’t you done that?”
“I’m not through yet.”
“Will marriage prevent your filling that rôle? We shall not leave Chambéry.”
“You can’t give only half of yourself, Raymond. I have renounced my personal happiness. And from the day I renounced it I have felt a great force in me.”
He gave a violent start, in protest.
“But there’s no sense in it, Margaret. You have no right to deny yourself like this. You will live after your father’s gone. Your brother when he’s acquitted to-morrow will lead his own life, apart from you. And you, what will become of you all alone? What’s the use of sacrificing yourself for needless scruples?”