This response of hers struck him as implying that Maud had confessed something not very creditable to herself, something which she, as a woman, hesitated to tell him. If this were actually true, however, why should she reveal the truth to Maud’s lover? Would she not rather hide it from him?
“But you will not see Charlie for months,” he exclaimed, in dismay. “What are we to do in the meantime?”
“We can only wait,” she answered. “I cannot break my oath to my friend.”
“Then you took an oath not to repeat what she told you?”
“She told me something amazing concerning—”
And she hesitated.
“Concerning herself,” he added. “Well?”
“It was a confession, Max—a—a terrible confession. I had not a wink of sleep last night for her words rang in my ears, and her face, wild and haggard, haunted me in the darkness. Ah! it is beyond credence—horrible!—but—but, Max—leave me. These people are noticing us. I will see you to-night, where you like. Only go—go! I can’t bear to talk of it! Poor Maud! What that confession must have cost her! And why? Ah, I see it all now! Because—because she knew that her end was near!”