It was now Richard’s turn to look confused. ‘I began to burn it, but repented of my intention.’
‘You wanted to burn it,’ said Rosalie, ‘because you were so angry with me. Why were you so angry with me? Was it because of—of what your uncle told you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I know he did not mean to do me harm,’ said Rosalie tremulously, ‘but I don’t think he—he can have made you understand properly. Everything was going wrong, and—and I was so much bothered; I found I could not manage by myself, and he had been my poor Elias’s friend’—she was beginning to sob now—‘and I knew I could trust him not to do anything Elias would n’t have liked, and—oh, it is so difficult to explain!’
‘Pray do not try to explain,’ said Richard very gently.
‘But you should n’t misjudge me as you do,’ cried she, and then burst into tears.
‘I do not misjudge you now,’ said Richard in a low voice. ‘Oh, don’t cry! I assure you I understand. You have been quite right—quite right all along.’
The big tearful blue eyes looked at him over the crumpled handkerchief.
‘But you said—you said I sold myself,’ she gasped. ‘You should n’t have said that! I loved my husband.’
‘I am sure you did,’ said Richard gravely and tenderly.