"Wait. This shall be explained. You must not marry my son."
She stepped back from him and from her clear eyes, always so sympathetic, there came a flash of anger. "You are mad, Judge," she said.
"I grant it. He drove me mad—he sent me to hell."
"And you would drag me there."
"I would save you. It is a duty I owe to the memory of your father and to my own love for you. Yes, it is my duty."
"And it is my duty," she said, with now the light of sympathy in her eyes, "to send for a doctor."
"Wait. You have not heard. Remember you have sworn."
"Yes, and I will keep my oath. No, I have not heard. You have told me nothing. You have simply been mad enough to say that we must not marry." The sympathy had gone from her eyes. "You must know that Howard and I have all our lives lived for each other. I owe you nearly everything, I would make almost any sacrifice for you, but when you even intimate—but I will not reproach you," she said, softening again. "You have not told me why," she added, looking into his eyes.
"My child, it would break your heart."
She straightened and put her hand upon her bosom. "I offer my heart. Break it."