'Not that I believe in malicious letter-writers and whisperers;
not I. I don't know whether I do or don't: upon my soul, I can't
tell. I know this: a religion was building itself upon you in my
heart. I looked into your eyes, and thought I saw there truth and
innocence as pure and perfect as ever embodied by God in the flesh
of woman. Perfect truth is too much to expect, but ordinary truth
I WILL HAVE or nothing at all. Just say, then; is the matter you
keep back of the gravest importance, or is it not?'
'I don't understand all your meaning. If I have hidden anything
from you, it has been because I loved you so, and I feared--
feared--to lose you.'
'Since you are not given to confidence, I want to ask you some
plain questions. Have I your permission?'
'Yes,' she said, and there came over her face a weary resignation.
'Say the harshest words you can; I will bear them!'
'There is a scandal in the air concerning you, Elfride; and I
cannot even combat it without knowing definitely what it is. It
may not refer to you entirely, or even at all.' Knight trifled in
the very bitterness of his feeling. 'In the time of the French
Revolution, Pariseau, a ballet-master, was beheaded by mistake for
Parisot, a captain of the King's Guard. I wish there was another
"E. Swancourt" in the neighbourhood. Look at this.'
He handed her the letter she had written and left on the table at
Mrs.
Pages:
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456