Garlotte remained motionless, propped on her two hands, and looking out of the window into the streaming moonlight. Her brown hair touched Igraine’s face as she lay still and watched her. The room was very silent, not a breeze seemed stirring, the roses athwart the window were still as though carved in wood.
Garlotte spoke very softly, looking up with her face white and solemn in the moonlight.
“I should tell Renan,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I love him.”
“Yes—go on.”
“I should not love him rightly in God’s eyes if I kept him from the truth.”
The coverlet rose and fell over Igraine’s bosom, and there was a queer twisting pain at her heart.
“But if you were never to see Renan again?” she said.
“If I told him the truth?”