He raised his hat, and would have moved away, but Edith laid her hand upon his arm and forcibly detained him.
“Stop!” she cried. “One word! You shall not go. I must speak.”
He turned upon her almost angrily; he attempted, but in vain, to shake off her detaining hand.
“Tell me,” she cried; “why are you going to meet Mrs. Haldane?” Then, before he could recover from his astonishment sufficiently to speak, she added, “You need not tell me, for I know. It is this woman who has come between you and me. Oh, do you think I don’t know that since she came to the village you have been a changed man? What did I come home for? Because I knew it was not right that you and she should be in the village alone.”
This time the clergyman succeeded in shaking off her hand. The face which he turned towards hers was almost livid in its pallor.
“You forget yourself,” he said, with a sternness which was even harder to bear than bitter reproach. “Well, I suppose you think you have a right to insult me; but permit me to remind you that your right does not extend to religious affairs, or to a lady who is the most esteemed member of my congregation.”
“I have not insulted you, Charles; I am only warning you.”
“You are very kind,” he interposed, with a sneer, “but I am, in no greater need of your warning than is the lady. Until you can learn how to control your own words and actions, it would be better for you that we should not meet.” Again he moved, as if about to leave her; again she put forth her hand, and held him fast. The scene had become more violent than she had intended. It was now too late to pause.
“One more word,” she sobbed. “Promise me that you will not see her, then I will promise never to mention this subject again.”
“Promise you what? To discontinue all communications with Mrs. Haldane?”