“Then listen,” she said in a hard, unnatural voice, after a few moments of hesitation. “When we were lovers in the old days I was, as you know, a pure, honest, upright woman, with thoughts only for my God and for yourself. But I am that no longer. I am unworthy your love, Gerald. I am unfit to be your wife, and can never be—never!” and she threw herself upon the couch near by and burst into a flood of tears, while I stood there rigid as a statue.
Chapter Eleven.
Deane Speaks his Mind.
An hour later I was seated in my room at the Embassy staring blankly at the blotting-pad before me, utterly perplexed and bewildered. I loved Yolande—nay, she was my idol; nevertheless she had firmly refused to allow me to resume my place at her side. At one moment it seemed to me as though she had actually made a sacrifice for my sake; yet at another I could not help regarding both her and her mother with distinct suspicion. My love’s strange words were in themselves a sufficient self-condemnation. Her service as a political agent had been secured by one or other of the Powers—France, I suspected; and, to put it plainly, she was a spy!
This knowledge had come upon me like a thunderbolt. Of all the women I had known and least suspected of endeavouring to learn the secrets of our diplomacy, Yolande was certainly the chief. The events which had culminated in her accepting this odious office were veiled in mystery. Why had she done this? Who had tempted her or forced her to it?
Those tears of hers, when she had made confession, were the tears of a woman in the depths of despair and degradation, and I, loving her so fondly, could not but allow my heart to go forth in sympathy. There was an affinity between us that I knew might some day prove fatal.
But we had parted. She had announced her intention of leaving Paris, accompanied by her mother, on the morrow, and had begged and implored that I would never seek her again.
“I shall take care to evade you,” she had said. “To-day we meet for the last time. We must each go our own way and strive our hardest to forget.”