"She is blind," answered Matheson with a quiver in his words. "Blinded for life while trying to warn me of a vitriol attack. Olive, I want you to listen without interruption while I tell you on my word of honour what are the facts underneath that vile story of Larssen's. I want you to believe and have pity.
"We had never seen one another before Arles. There we met as casual tourists. It happened that I was able to defend her from the assault of a half-drunken peasant. After that we parted as the merest acquaintances. By pure chance we met again at Nîmes. She came to Nîmes to gather further material for her scene-painting. For scene purposes she had to make a sketch at night-time, and I went with her as escort as I would have done with any other woman. We were followed by the peasant Crau. He was about to throw vitriol on me when Miss Verney intervened. She received the acid full in her eyes. She is, I believe, blinded for life. Even now, as I speak, she lies on the operating table.... Olive, there has been nothing between us!"
His voice rang out in passionate sincerity.
"I don't believe it," she replied icily.
"You must believe it! I give you my word of honour!"
"I don't believe it! It's against human nature. You're in love with her—that's plain. You had opportunity enough. I know sufficient of human nature to put two and two together. I shall certainly sue for a divorce!"
"Against a blind girl?"
"I don't care a straw whether she's blinded or not!"
And then, for the first time in all that long interview, Matheson blazed into open anger.
"You know human nature?" he cried. "By God, you know your own, and you measure every other woman by yourself! Behind my back you throw yourself at this damned scoundrel!" He flung out his hand toward Larssen.