She paused for breath, which came pantingly. Gerard stood stiff, his eyes fixed upon her, unmoving, as if turned to stone. He passed his tongue over his lips. The enormity of his folly paralysed him. At last words came.
“What kept him silent then?”
“As if you could understand,” she cried in her passionate scorn. “The honour of the bravest man that ever lived. That night—he had seen my father’s will—all my money to go if I married a Christian—we swore to part for ever and keep our marriage secret. I kept him to his promise. I let him go through all that horror—I was coming to tell you that awful night—I was taken ill. Your wife saved his life, not his. And I have been in hell fire ever since.”
“And there I hope to God you’ll remain,” said Gerard in a low voice.
“You shall taste some of it with me. Go to her now and ask her to forgive you.”
“I shall order the carriage for you,” said Gerard. And without another word he turned and walked out of the room.
“He will order the carriage for me. Ha! Ha!” cried Minna.
The buxom patronne heard the laugh, pricked up her ears, and flew to the beautiful lady’s assistance.