Both his voice and his look carried conviction. Waves of wild grief, of hopeless, crushing despair, swept over Evarne's spirit, followed by the most intense hatred and bitter indignation. Her caution demolished by a sense of utter failure, she placed no restriction upon the expression of her deep-rooted resentment against this man who had ever been her evil genius. She stood close to him, one hand spasmodically gripping the back of the chair from which she had arisen, while her eyes, always brilliant, now fairly blazed with anger and enmity.
"I shouldn't deny it—no, indeed. But from my lips he should learn the whole truth—the entire shameful story. He should know how my father on his very deathbed gave me—still a child—into the keeping of his false friend. Surely it will be easy to realise that, when in my hour of loss and loneliness you came professedly to help and comfort me, I unhesitatingly entrusted myself and the guidance of my life into your hands. Was I blameworthy so far? But oh, what a cruel fate for any girl!"
"You had a very good time, my dear," interposed Morris testily.
"A good time!" she echoed wildly. "Oh! You know, and Geoffrey shall know how, from the very first, you systematically tricked and deceived me, lying to me about your wife, and taking me alone with you to Naples. Will it seem strange to him to learn that in time you were able to make me care for you as blindly as I trusted you? I shall tell him how you worked upon all that was best in my nature—how you appealed to my sympathy—how you played upon my gratitude, my affection, to gain your own vile ends. I shall tell him all your infamy. You cast me among absolutely depraved women—meaning me to become as they were; for finally you bade me sell myself for money! Yes, you would have deliberately started me on that path which is held to be the most degrading—the most cruel—of all the tracks that lead hellwards. That's what you did for me, an innocent child; and that's what you would have done, could you have had your entire will with me! My God, how I hate you! and the man who loves me shall hate you too. But for me he shall feel only a new, a different, a more desperate love. Now, then—send for him this very hour—do you think there is any trace of doubt or fear in my heart? I defy you absolutely—you most vile creature! Tell him—tell him all you can, and let him judge between us. What cause have I to fear you, or anything that such as you can say? The life you lead, the evil you do, is repulsive in the eyes of every decent-thinking man. You to talk of honour—hypocrite, hypocrite! Having ruined first my good name, then my every happiness, when both in turn were in your power, you come now, and under the pretence of immovable devotion to honour, calmly propose to sweep away everything that makes my life worth living. You offer me money, and think I'm going to creep away overwhelmed and silenced. I have promised Geoffrey to be ever true and loyal to him; I shall keep my word! Send for him immediately if you desire, and let him decide between us."
Morris likewise stood up before he answered. His brows were contracted in a steady frown, yet the first thing he did was to break into a little scornful laugh. Then he spoke, and his voice was tense with anger.
"Make out as touching a legend as your imagination can devise, yet your own lips will condemn you. Would you not be forced to admit that you belonged to me willingly enough until I grew tired of you? Be very sure that after once acknowledging that single fact, the whole of your embroideries and explanations—all your heroics—would but fall on deaf ears. I know Geoffrey a great deal better than you can do; you've only seen one side of his nature, and that, I can understand, may easily have given you an exaggerated idea of your sway over him. Haven't you found out yet that, honourable and straightforward himself, he is impatient of deceit and trickery and double-dealing?"
She interposed with a little cry of anguish: "Oh! Morris!"
Unheedingly he went on.
"Truthful, Geoffrey is out of sympathy with liars; good-natured and quiet though he be, it is only safe to impose on him up to a certain point. You fondly hope you could melt the anger and repulsion your confession would inevitably create by means of easy tears and specious pleadings. I very much doubt it. Do you think he is totally devoid of pride and self-respect and firmness? What leads you to suppose that he would be satisfied with soiled goods? Do you really believe that the knowledge that he is not first with you will merely give him a sort of sentimental heartache—more or less violent—that will pass away once he gets used to the notion? Do you think that he would ever forget that every kiss of his wipes off one of mine? Do you dare hope you would not lose all value in his estimation once he learnt that his own cousin, for one, knows exactly the nature of the words you speak—the look that comes into your eyes—all your pretty little ways when you are most deeply lost in love? Why should you think he is devoid of the desire for exclusive possession? For my part, knowing him and his high-flown ideals, I fancy he could no longer endure the sight of you once he realised what you have been—that there is no mystery about you upon which he cannot gain enlightenment for the asking—that however passionately he may hold you in his arms, others have——"
"Stop, Morris! stop!"