Carteret. The scoundrel!
Rachel. Now then, you know it all.
Carteret. No, not all. Were you going away with him that night?
Rachel. Yes—he said we must be married. I knew we must—
Carteret [bitterly]. Yes, you had to marry someone…. [Rachel looks at him imploringly]. Go on to the end.
Rachel [with an effort]. He was going to East Africa. He was to sail next day, and I was going with him. We were going up by the late train to be married in the morning, and we meant to leave the car at the station with a letter to his parents—and then the car broke down by the roadside—and you came, and the next day he sailed…. Now you know it all.
Carteret. Yes, that sounds like the truth at last. I know that I have dragged the truth from you bit by bit. My God! I was far enough from it that night when I thought I was protecting an innocent little girl who was being bullied by her employer. You called me simple just now—I was simple indeed.
Rachel. Yes, you were simple and trusting and wonderful—you say you would have married me all the same if I had dared to tell you. I know you would. It would have been like you—like your greatness and goodness. But, oh, how could I tell you—how could I! Oh, Will, you say you could have forgiven me then—can't you forgive me now?
Carteret. Forgiveness! What does forgiveness matter, if there's no belief when trust has gone? Rachel, I believed in you as I believe in my Redeemer. You knew I did. What was in your thoughts, this very evening was it, or was it another lifetime? when I told you how I trusted and reverenced you? Did you feel nothing but mockery at the success of your deceit?
Rachel. No, no. I thought when you were telling me, what a great pure heart you had, how I would try to be worthy of you.