"And yet you went to Rotterdam afterwards to make friends with Herbert!"
"When he write and tell me there good teaching in the place, could I know it was untrue? Could I know that he would borrow all my money from me? Could I know that he turn out a worse——"
"Mademoiselle, I pray you, be calm."
"There, then. I will say no more. I have outlived it. But I wish him to know that that fine night's work was his. It was the right man who lay in prison for it. The letter I have given you may never reach him; and I ask you tell him, for his pill, should it not."
"Then you have never hinted this to him?" asked William.
"Never. I was afraid. Will you tell him?"
"I cannot make the promise. I must use my own discretion. I think it is very unlikely that I shall ever see him."
"You meet people that you do not look for. Until last Saturday, you might have said it was unlikely that you would meet me."
"That is true."
Now that the excitement of the disclosure was over, she lay back in a grievous state of exhaustion. William rose to leave, and she held out her hand to him. Could he shun it—guilty as she had confessed herself to him? No. Who was he, that he should set himself up to judge her? And she was dying!