'I've been in your service fifteen years,' she said, in a voice as vibrating as the muscles of her countenance. 'I've been treated by you no better than a dog, and I've followed you, and been true to you as a dog. Whenever did I take anything from you before? I've watched for you against the mice that eat the corn, watched like an owl!'
'You acknowledge this?'
'What is the good of denying it? Let me go, for my fifteen years' faithful duty.'
'No, no,' said Taverner with a hard voice. 'Not yet; I've something more to ask. Honor Luxmore, what did you say when you took my bowl of broth from me?' Honor drew back.
'I spoke too hastily,' she said. 'I spoke without knowing.'
'You said that the bowl contained poison. Why did you say that?'
'It was fancy. Let me throw the broth away. I am sure of nothing.' Unlike her usual decision, Honor was now doubtful what to say and do.
'I insist on knowing. I made a charge against your brother, and it has proved false, because it has been gone into. You have made a charge——'
'I have charged no one.'
'You have said that this bowl'—he took it from the shelf—'is poisoned. Why did you say that? No one touched it, no one mixed it, but Mrs. Veale. Therefore, when you said it was poisoned, you charged her with a dreadful crime; you charged her, that is, with an attempted crime.'