"Which I've deserved," he assented dryly, "and I've had them pretty often."
"You're laying the blame upon her, you're accusing her, and it's cowardly. If you love her it is, at least, best to be honest; if you don't love her your conduct is still more unpardonable. I wish I hadn't seen you to-day, but I did and I'm forced to speak. I can't let you go on. There's Johnstone Astry; what right have you to make clandestine love to his wife? And Eva—what misery your love will bring her! If you love her, I implore you to remember her honor, her good name, her folly in caring for you at all!"
Belhaven walked away from her and stood with his back toward her. What seemed to be his indifference spurred Rachel on.
"She's young, she's thoughtless, she's at your mercy," she went on passionately. "If you love her—you must spare her!"
He swung around, his face tense with feeling, ghastly. "My God, Rachel, it's you I love!"
She stood looking at him blankly, dumbfounded, frozen in her amazement and horror. It seemed to her an enormity for him to transgress the silent compact between them, to speak of love to her. "How can you?" she gasped.
"I'm human, I've about reached the limit. I'm neither a saint nor a paladin, only a good deal of a scoundrel."
"You're taking an unfair advantage—you've no right to speak so to me!"
"I told you I was a good deal of a scoundrel; do you want me to admit more? I've pleaded guilty to all your indictments, I've stood here for months at the bar of your justice, I've borne my punishment, and I—I've learned to love you."
She turned away, deeply and sadly moved. She did not know what to say; there seemed so little that she could say.