Juan made a supreme effort to overcome his sadness, but it was futile. His wife could not be deceived.
"For the first time in our married life," she said, "you hide a sorrow from me. Am I no longer worthy of your love and confidence?"
"Catherine!" he exclaimed, "do not, for heaven's sake, grieve me further by doubting my affection for you!"
"Where there is no trust," she rejoined in feeling tones, "there can be no true love."
"Then respect, for your own good and mine, the secret I conceal from you."
"Your secret is a sorrow, and I wish to know it and to lighten it."
"To lighten it? That is impossible!"
"To such a love as mine," she urged, "nothing is impossible."
"Very well: then hear me. To-morrow my life and honour will be lost. The bridge must fall into the river, and I on the keystone shall perish with the fabric which, with so much anxiety and so many hopes, I have erected!"
"No, no!" cried Catherine, as she clasped her husband in her arms with loving tenderness, smothering in her own heart the anguish of the revelation.