‘You say it is useless to speak to me of that past time. But, since we have got so far below the surface in our talk, there is one thing I would like to tell you, without any prejudice to my friendship with Michael. You sent a note to him one day.’
‘Yes.’
‘He gave it to me to read at the time.’
‘Yes?’
‘I urged him to take a day to consider the matter, and I have always felt that you were wronged by his refusing to do so. But his own wrongs at that time were so incomparably greater than yours, and his heart was so broken, that I have always condoned the fault, though I was sorry for it. Now you know all.’
‘I am glad you have told me. His heart was so broken, you say,’ said Gilbert, speaking with an evident effort. ‘I did not dare to think of anything connected with him, then. He—is he—do you think it would be a breach of confidence to let me know something of his circumstances?’
‘I am afraid he would think so. He does not even know I am meeting you.’
‘Ah! Say nothing then. But—his engagement with Miss Wynter. Surely he cannot regret now that it was broken off?’
‘I don’t suppose he does. That did not make the blow at the time less hard.’
‘No, no! I should have fancied somehow that he would have married some one else. But he has not.’