“Then why not say them now, my child?”
“But why?”
He had made her tremble all over, but she got up, walked straight across to him, looked intently into his face for a moment, and then said: “What is the matter? Why are you so pale? You are not well, John!”
“No, I'm not well either.” he answered.
“John, John, what does it all mean? What are you thinking of? Why have you come here to-night?”
“To save your soul, my child. It is in great, great peril.”
At first she took this for the common, everyday language of the devotee, but another look into his face banished that interpretation, and her fear rose to terror. Nevertheless she talked lightly, hardly knowing what she said. “Am I, then, so very wicked? Surely Heaven doesn't want me yet, John. Some day I trust—I hope——”
“To-night, to-night—now!”
Then her cheeks turned pale and her lips became white and bloodless. She had returned to the sofa, and half rose from it, then sat back, stretching out one hand as if to ward off a blow, but still keeping her eyes riveted on his face. Once she looked round to the door and tried to cry out, but her voice would not answer her.
This speechless fright lasted only a moment. Then she was herself again, and looked fearlessly up at him. She had the full use of her intellect, and her quick instinct went to the root of things. “This is the madness of jealousy,” she thought. “There is only one way to deal with it. If I cry out—if I show that I am afraid—if I irritate him, it will soon, be over.” She told herself in a moment that she must try gentleness, tenderness, reason, affection, love.