"Absolutely nothing. You will find, if you come to consider the affair, that, as I say, you know nothing, but suspect much; and so upon mere suspicion you will make your future life miserable. I would not so bend to circumstances if the whole world stood up before me, and told me I was right in my dread thoughts of one whom I had loved."
The poor cook glanced at Sir Richard Blunt, and for the space of about half a minute, not one word passed between them. Then in a low voice, the cook said—
"You have read Romeo and Juliet, sir?"
"Yes—what then?"
"There is one line there, in which we read that
'He jests at scars who never felt a wound.'"
"Well, how would you apply that line to the present circumstances?"
"I would say you have never loved, sir, and I have loved."
"A broad assumption that, my friend," said Sir Richard Blunt, "a very broad assertion, indeed. But come, I have to spare a short time. Will you, in recompense for what I have done for you, relate to me more fully than you have done, how it is that you suspect her whom you loved of falsehood to you?"
"Do not say loved, sir; I love her still."