“Elfride,” said Knight, rather in his old tone of mentor, “you know I don’t for a moment chide you, but is there not a great deal of unwomanly weakness in your allowing yourself to be so overwhelmed by the sight of what, after all, is no novelty? Every woman worthy of the name should, I think, be able to look upon death with something like composure. Surely you think so too?”
“Yes; I own it.”
His obtuseness to the cause of her indisposition, by evidencing his entire freedom from the suspicion of anything behind the scenes, showed how incapable Knight was of deception himself, rather than any inherent dulness in him regarding human nature. This, clearly perceived by Elfride, added poignancy to her self-reproach, and she idolized him the more because of their difference. Even the recent sight of Stephen’s face and the sound of his voice, which for a moment had stirred a chord or two of ancient kindness, were unable to keep down the adoration re-existent now that he was again out of view.
She had replied to Knight’s question hastily, and immediately went on to speak of indifferent subjects. After they had reached home she was apart from him till dinner-time. When dinner was over, and they were watching the dusk in the drawing-room, Knight stepped out upon the terrace. Elfride went after him very decisively, on the spur of a virtuous intention.
“Mr. Knight, I want to tell you something,” she said, with quiet firmness.
“And what is it about?” gaily returned her lover. “Happiness, I hope. Do not let anything keep you so sad as you seem to have been to-day.”
“I cannot mention the matter until I tell you the whole substance of it,” she said. “And that I will do to-morrow. I have been reminded of it to-day. It is about something I once did, and don’t think I ought to have done.”
This, it must be said, was rather a mild way of referring to a frantic passion and flight, which, much or little in itself, only accident had saved from being a scandal in the public eye.
Knight thought the matter some trifle, and said pleasantly:
“Then I am not to hear the dreadful confession now?”