‘It was considerable,’ said Sir John.
‘And you believed it?’ she demanded.
‘O, madam,’ said Sir John, ‘the question!’
‘Thank you for that answer!’ cried Seraphina. ‘And now here, I will tell you, upon my honour, upon my soul, in spite of all the scandal in this world, I am as true a wife as ever stood.’
‘We should probably not agree upon a definition,’ observed Sir John.
‘O!’ she cried, ‘I have abominably used him—I know that; it is not that I mean. But if you admire my husband, I insist that you shall understand me: I can look him in the face without a blush.’
‘It may be, madam,’ said Sir John; ‘nor have I presumed to think the contrary.’
‘You will not believe me?’ she cried. ‘You think I am a guilty wife? You think he was my lover?’
‘Madam,’ returned the Baronet, ‘when I tore up my papers, I promised your good husband to concern myself no more with your affairs; and I assure you for the last time that I have no desire to judge you.’
‘But you will not acquit me! Ah!’ she cried, ‘he will—he knows me better!’