After looking in silence at the inn for a long time Beatrice withdrew her gaze. Brandon regarded her with a fixed and earnest glance, as though he would read her inmost soul. She looked at him, and cast down her eyes.
“You abhor me!” said he, in a loud, thrilling voice.
She said nothing, but pointed toward the inn.
“You know all about that?”
Beatrice bowed her head silently.
“And you look upon me as guilty?”
She gazed at him, but said nothing. It was a cold, austere gaze, without one touch of softness.
“After all,” said she, “he was my father. You had your vengeance to take, and you have taken it. You may now exult, but my heart bleeds.”
Brandon started to his feet.
“As God lives,” he cried, “I did not do that thing!”