“You lie! Had this charge been true, you would have told the secret long ago.”
Berenice, paling, trembling, continued:
“You are mistaken, for an impulse of generous pity made me keep your hideous secret locked fast in my own breast, until now. I never meant to speak until—last night—when—I—heard—you—with—your—lover—beneath—the trees!”
“Liar! Viper! Oh, let me tear her false tongue from her lips!” snarled Rosalind, but strong hands pinioned her and held her back, that Berenice might finish speaking.
She turned her dark, solemn, truthful eyes upon her father-in-law.
“Last night the nurse sent me out for a breath of fresh air, and while I rested under the trees a man passed by on horseback and reined up before the cottage gate. He came back presently with Rosalind, and not dreaming of my presence they talked over their terrible secrets together. Those two lovers, Senator Bonair, ridiculed you, laughed at you as old Moneybags, plotted to remain lovers after her marriage to you, and to make way with you as quickly as possible that she might take him for a second husband. Then they sealed their terrible bargain with a hundred kisses and caresses, and went away, unconscious of a listener, who, to save you, sir, from their cruel machinations, has broken the silence of more than a year to warn you of lurking danger, if you marry Rosalind Montague.”
The voice ceased and Berenice waited with a beating heart for them all to denounce her and take Rosalind’s part.
Then Senator Bonair said dully, as if shocked into apathy:
“Now, Rosalind, for your defense!”
She answered, with angry evasion: