She swept the clinging tears from her lashes, the soft clasp of her fingers upon his hand unconsciously tightening.
"You may read an answer within my face," she replied, slowly. "It must be that my eyes tell the truth, although I cannot speak it with my lips."
"Cannot? In God's name, why?"
She choked, yet the voice did not wholly fail her.
"Because I have no right. I—I am the wife of another."
The head drooped lower, the hair shadowing the face, and Winston, his lips set and white, stared at her, scarcely comprehending. A moment later he sprang to his feet, one hand pressed across his eyes, slowly grasping the full measure of her confession.
"The wife of another!" he burst forth, his voice shaking. "Great God! You? What other? Farnham?"
The bowed head sank yet lower, as though in mute answer, and his ears caught the echo of a single muffled sob. Suddenly she glanced up at him, and then rose unsteadily to her feet clinging to the back of the chair for support.
"Mr. Winston," her voice strengthening with each word spoken, "it hurts me to realize that you feel so deeply. I—I wish I might bear the burden of this mistake all alone. But I cannot stand your contempt, or have you believe me wholly heartless, altogether unworthy. We—we must part, now and forever; there is no other honorable way. I tried so hard to compel you to leave me before; I accepted that engagement at the Gayety, trusting such an act would disgust you with me. I am not to blame for this; truly, I am not—no woman could have fought against Fate more faithfully; only—only I couldn't find sufficient courage to confess to you the whole truth. Perhaps I might have done so at first; but it was too late before I learned the necessity, and then my heart failed me. There was another reason I need not mention now, why I hesitated, why such a course became doubly hard. But I am going to tell you it all now, for—for I wish you to go away at least respecting my womanhood."
He made no reply, no comment, and the girl dropped her questioning eyes to the floor.