"Yours, madam? But—they were Molly's."
"Not at all. Molly, after her marriage, had nothing. All became my lord's property. The jewels were mine, Jack—mine by promise and compact."
I understood nothing.
"I have seen in France, the women kneeling at the boxes where they confess to the priest. Jack, will you be my priest? I can confess to you what I could never confess to Molly—though I have wronged her—Jack! Oh! my priest——" Here she fell on her knees and clasped her hands. "No—no," she cried. "I will not rise. On my knees, on my knees—not to ask your pardon, but for the shame and the disgrace and the villainy."
"Madam—I pray—I entreat."
I took her by both hands. I half lifted her and half assisted her. She sank into an armchair sobbing and crying, and covered her face with her hands. She was not play acting. No—no—it was real sorrow—true shame. Oh! there was revenge as well. No doubt there was revenge. If she had been wicked, she had also been wronged. Presently she recovered a little. Then she sat up and began to talk.
"I am the most miserable woman in the world—and I deserve my misery. Jack, when you go back to your ship, fall on your knees and thank God that you are poor and that Molly has been robbed of her fortune and is also poor. Oh! to be born rich—believe me—it is a thing most terrible. It makes men become like Lord Fylingdale, who have nothing to do but to follow pleasure—such pleasure! Ah! merciful heaven! such pleasure! And it makes women, Jack, like me. We, too, follow pleasure like the men—we become gamblers—there is no pleasure for me like the pleasure of gambling; we fall in love for the pleasure and whim of it—till we are slaves to men who treat us worse than they treat their dogs—worse than they treat their lackeys. Then we forget honour and honesty; then we throw away reputation and good name; we accept recklessly shame and dishonour. My name has become a byword—but what of that? I have been a man's slave—I have done his bidding."
"But how, madam"—still I understood very little of this talk, yet became suspicious when she spoke thus of the jewels—"how came Molly's jewels to be your own?"
"I tell you, Jack. By promise and compact. I must go back to another discourse with you. It was on a certain evening a year ago. You had made the fine discovery that Lord Fylingdale was a gamester and the rest of it. You told me. You also told me that Molly would not keep her promise, and would certainly not be at the church in the morning. Do you remember?"
"I remember that we talked about things."