The question unnerved me worse than I was already unnerved. It did more, it raised all the ire of my spirit. A choice between two evils only seemed to be left to me; either to burst into hysterical tears, or to openly reproach Mr. Chandos. The latter course came first.
"Why did you deceive me, Mr. Chandos?"
"Deceive you!"
"Yes, deceive me, and wretchedly deceive me," I answered in my desperation; neither caring nor quite knowing what it was I said. "How came you to speak to me at all of love knowing why it is that you cannot marry?"
He bit his lip as he looked at me. "Do you know why it is?"
"I do now. I did not yesterday, as you may be very sure!"
"It is impossible you can know it," he rejoined, in some agitation.
"Mr. Chandos, I do. Spare me from saying more. It is not a subject on which either you or I should enlarge."
"And pray, Anne, who was it that enlightened you?"
"That is of no consequence," I passionately answered, aroused more and more by the cool manner of his taking the reproach. "I know now what the barrier is you have more than once hinted at, and that is quite enough."