“Was that all that passed?”
“All, I assure you.”
Ellen gave a peculiar laugh, the sound of which I did not like at all. There is nothing more significant than a woman’s light laugh—nothing, sometimes, more horrible.
“She was reproachful, and you—consoled her?”
“Consoled her?”
“As a true lover should,—with kisses and embraces? You see, I know everything!”
“It is a calumny,” cried the clergyman, with seeming indignation. “True, I was gentle with her, for I felt very sorry. I reasoned and remonstrated with the foolish child: after all, she is a child only. Oh, Ellen, how could you listen to such an accusation? You who know that there is but one woman in the world who has my love, my life’s devotion, and that you are that woman.”
Did my eyes deceive me, or had he stretched out an arm to embrace her? No, I was right!
“Take away your arm!” she cried. “I will not suffer it!”
She did suffer it, notwithstanding.