Though she spoke in a very quiet voice, hearing her own tones made her shrink from herself in a contemptuous surprise. Had she fallen so low as to allow herself to speak thus? She would have given much to recall her sentence. She drew herself up with some haughtiness as she added, "Please forget that I used such words. Naturally I don't like to think of my cousin. I will say to you, Lord Maxwell, that you are not the only one who has suffered by reason of that woman."
Carolyn succeeded in pronouncing the words "that woman" in an entirely neutral tone. Having done so, she immediately fell to despising herself for having said them at all. They seemed to her far beneath her own ideal of what she ought to be. In the sudden stress of her penitence and pain she leaned forward and made a gesture for her companion to stop in his walk.
"Lord Maxwell," she said, tremulously, "I don't mean to bear malice, or to judge. How am I to know the strength of temptation which besets somebody else? I am always praying to be forgiven. The seeing that you suffer—yes, it must be that—makes me talk to you in this way, though I don't know you much,—though—"
Her voice trembled into silence. Her eyes, dim with tears, were lowered. Lord Maxwell seized her hand; he held it fast in both his own for an instant.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "you're a good woman! I wish I'd known a woman like you years ago. I did have a sister, but she died; somehow a fellow can't get on if he doesn't have a good sister, or know some woman like you."
He paused and dropped her hand. Two tears fell from his eyes to his cheeks. He took out his handkerchief and openly wiped them away.
"I'm a regular donkey, don't you know?" he said; "but you can't tell what it is to me to see a woman like you. I knew there must be such women somewhere; and I've had such a load of things on my mind lately. And I've been wishing I'd tried more to make my wife have a better time; but I couldn't get Prudence out of my mind no way. Fact is, she bewitched me. And I counted on finding her now, and—and—well, you see, hearing she's married was a regular knock-down blow,—took the stiffening right out of me. So I've been and behaved like a baby,—and I an Englishman!"
Here the speaker smiled in a doleful manner. Then he turned towards the door. "I believe I'll go now; might as well. Good-by, Miss Ffolliott."
He turned back again, shook hands, and then walked out of the room.
Carolyn remained in her chair by the fire. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Her features gradually became as calm as if they did not belong to a being who could be happy, and who could also suffer.