He hesitated a moment, then some defiance of her disapproval made him say boldly:
“Then? If I get at the bottom of the mystery that infolds her, and if I can prove her all that I vaguely believe, I shall make her my wife.”
“You are mad!” she cried, but in the depths of her soul she respected him for his noble faith in the girl he loved, and for his desire to help her out of her trouble. A vague repentance began to stir at her heart.
“Was I too hard?” she asked herself uneasily, and a memory of the girl’s sweetness, gentleness, and gratitude stole over her with such power that a dimness crept over her eyes.
He looked at her sadly and reproachfully, but she did not speak. She wanted time to think.
“Have you any idea, any suspicion, where she went?” he asked.
“None.”
“Did she go away penniless?”
“She took one set of jewels—the diamonds I gave her for a wedding gift; but she left all your presents.”
It seemed to him that there was a graceful delicacy in the act.