But his gentleness unnerved her—she felt choking—loosened the collar of her dress for breathing space-and gave him the knowledge he asked in broken exclamations.
"Before I was married—it—began. They persuaded me so many—oh, so many—unnecessary things—were—needed. Then they would not send the bills—and I—for a long time—never knew—what I owed—and then—and then—I thought I should have the power—but—"
"Your allowance was not sufficient?" asked Mr. Ferrars, pressing her hand as he spoke.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes! most generous, and yet it was always forestalled to pay old bills: and then—and then my wants were so many. I was so weak. Madame Dalmas has had dresses I could have worn when I had new ones on credit instead, and—and Harris has had double wages to compensate for what a lady's maid thinks her perquisites; even articles I might have given to poor gentlewomen I have been mean enough to sell. Oh, Walter! I have been very wrong; but I have been miserable for at least three years. I felt as if an iron cage were rising around me,—from which you only could free me—and yet, till to-day, I think I could have died rather than confess to you."
"My poor girl! Why should you have feared me? Have I ever been harsh?"
"Oh, no!—no—but you are so just—so strict in all these things—"
"I hope I am; and yet not the less do I understand how all this has come about. Now, Lucy,—now that you have ceased to fear me—tell me the amount."
She strove to speak, but could not.
"Three figures or four? tell me."
"I am afraid—yes, I am afraid four," murmured Lady Lucy, and hiding her face from his view; "yes, four figures, and my quarter received last week gone every penny."