'I tell you it is not. You are under a complete misapprehension. I am not able, nor, at this moment, am I willing, to tell you what the facts of the case actually are, but I do assure you of this--and I beg you to be so good as to remember that I have never told you a falsehood in my life--that the original of that photograph is not the person you suppose; and that any conclusions you may deduce from the supposition that he is are erroneous.'
'Douglas, in reply, shall I tell you what I think? Not all; for that would be to entirely destroy the whole fabric on which my life has been reared; but in part.'
'Edith, I entreat you to be warned in time; before the mischief's done beyond repair. Whatever you have to say to me say when we're alone.'
'You've not allowed me to say anything even when we've been alone; you've always wished to put a lock upon my lips. And think what you have said to me! No; it will not do. By some process of reasoning which is beyond my comprehension you appear to have made a compromise with your own conscience which will be productive of more evil than that of which you are afraid.'
'Afraid!--I am afraid of nothing.'
'Of nothing? And yet you're afraid that I should speak; and do not dare to speak yourself.'
I simply fear your rashness.'
Then, indeed, my dear Douglas, you are afraid of nothing; for I'm not of that constitution from which rashness springs. The truth is, you exaggerate. Your life has been so dominated by a single hope that, now a new factor appears, you over-estimate the consequences which may accrue. I have always held it better policy to look the truth straight in the face; and, until now, I have imagined that you thought with me.'
'And you've been right. In this case I tell you again and again, that what you take to be the truth is not the truth.'
'Douglas, all our lives we have known each other, but until now I have not known you to be this man.'