“He evidently is a shrewd fellow, who does not wish his presence in that chattering little village to be known,” I said with a laugh. Then I added: “You went for moonlight rambles with him, I suppose?”
“He wished to talk with me, and on such occasions we took one or other of the paths across the fields.”
“Very interesting,” I said. “And all this time you were causing me to believe that you were mine alone! Are you surprised at my refusal to forgive?”
“I should be if I were guilty of playing you false,” she answered with slight haughtiness, as though my words wounded her self-respect.
“If you were not guilty you would never endeavour to conceal your lover’s name, as you are now doing!” I exclaimed.
“It is because I dare not tell you,” she replied, with a look of desperation on her face. “Were I to utter a word in explanation of the true state of affairs, all would be over, and both you and I would suffer.”
“How should I suffer?” I asked with some interest.
“The affair is much more curious and complicated than you imagine,” she said. “Knowledge of the truth could only bring ruin upon you.”
“Rubbish!” I cried roughly, starting up. “What have I to fear?”
“No, Gerald,” she implored, gripping my hand tightly, “do not treat this matter with indifference. It is, I tell you, a grave one for both of us.”