“Maurice!” she cried quickly, but he went on unheeding.
“The Admiral will protect you, and give you advice if you need it. You will have the independent control of Teffany-Wise’s money, and no doubt you will be able to use it more profitably for Con than for me.”
“But you talk as if—something was going to happen to you,” she faltered.
“It’s extremely likely that something is. But that need not trouble you. You will have Con to yourself, and can plan his future as you like.”
“Maurice!” Eirene took her courage in both hands, and went close to him. “Has it seemed—I mean, you could not have thought that—that when we had all those quarrels I—I didn’t care?”
“We will say that you dissembled your love with remarkable skill,” said Maurice, as lightly as he could. “Don’t imagine I blame you. You ought never to have married me. We thought you knew your own mind, but you were too young. I couldn’t give you what you had a right to expect, and you couldn’t do without it, as you once thought you could. I have been nothing but a disappointment to you.”
“No, no!” she cried eagerly. “I have never repented—never. I would marry you again to-morrow if—— Oh, Maurice!” struck by his lack of response, “don’t say you have repented—all along!”
“That I certainly have not. There have been times—— But it does no good to talk about it. How could I help repenting, for your sake, when I saw you struggling, chafing, hardly able to keep back the contempt you felt for me?”
“I wanted to bring out the best in you,” she said, choking back a sob,—“to make you worthy of your birthright, not let you sink into a mere country gentleman. Perhaps I have seemed unkind, but I meant it for your good.”
“I never doubted it,” he assured her; “but you see, I knew all along that my good meant your ambition. The conjunction was unfortunate, but it was not your fault.”