“The unpardonable sin!” echoed Helwyze, struck by her words and manner.
“Hawthorne somewhere describes it as ‘the want of love and reverence for the human soul, which makes a man pry into its mysterious depths, not with a hope or purpose of making it better, but from a cold, philosophical curiosity. This would be the separation of the intellect from the heart: and this, perhaps, would be as unpardonable a sin as to doubt God, whom we cannot harm; for in doing this we must inevitably do great wrong both to ourselves and others.’”
As she spoke, fast and earnestly, Gladys felt herself upon the brink of a much-desired, but much-dreaded, explanation; for Canaris, while owning to her that there was a secret, would not tell it till Helwyze freed him from his promise. She thought that he delayed to ask this absolution till she was fitter to bear the truth, whatever it might be; and she had resolved to spare her husband the pain of an avowal, by demanding it herself of Helwyze. The moment seemed to have come, and both knew it; for he regarded her with the quick, piercing look which read her purpose before she could put it into words.
“You are right; yet Roger was the wronged one, and the others deserved to suffer.”
“They did; but Hester’s suffering ennobled her, because nobly borne; Dimmesdale’s destroyed him, because he paltered weakly with his conscience. Roger let his wrong turn him from a man into a devil, and deserves the contempt and horror he rouses in us. The keeping of the secret makes the romance; the confession of it is the moral, showing how falsehood can ruin a life, and truth only save it at the last.”
“Never have a secret, Gladys: they are hard masters, whom we hate, yet dare not rebel against.”
His accent of sad sincerity seemed to clear the way for her, and she spoke out, briefly and bravely,—
“Sir, you dare any thing! Tell me what it is which makes Felix obey you against his will. He owns it, but will not speak till you consent. Tell me, I beseech you!”
“Could you bear it?” he asked, admiring her courage, yet doubtful of the wisdom of purchasing a moment’s satisfaction at such a cost; for, though he could cast down her idol, he dared not set up another in its place.
“Try me!” she cried: “nothing can lessen my love, and doubt afflicts me more than the hardest truth.”