“I don’t know—I shouldn’t like to try.”
“Then what do you come to me for?” he sharply continued, with a slight tinge of red in his pale cheeks. “Am I, think you, more unworthy than any other that has yet lived?”
“No, I should hope not,” I stammered; “and I did not come expecting you to reveal what was told you in confession——”
“What then—you wish to know if I wrote that letter maybe?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll be satisfied that I speak the truth when I answer?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll ask no more?”
“I’ll ask no more.”
“Then I didn’t. Bridget, show the gentleman out.”