"You will reproach me for disobedience, of course; for meanness, perhaps;
but I _knew_ there was some awful secret, and you would not tell me. I
earned my punishment, if that will be any satisfaction to you; I have
never since enjoyed an instant's peace, night or day."
He hid his face in his pain. This was the moment he had dreaded for
years; anything, so that it might be kept from her, he had prayed in his
never-ceasing fear.
"Forgive, forgive me! Oh, Maude, forgive me!"
She did not respond; she did not attempt to soothe him; if ever looks
expressed reproach and aversion, hers did then.
"Have compassion upon me, Maude! I was more sinned against than sinning."
"What compassion had you for me? How dared you marry me? you, bound with
crime?"
"The worst is over, Maude; the worst is over."
"It can never be over: you are guilty of wilful sophistry. The crime
remains; and--Lord Hartledon--its fruits remain."
He interrupted her excited words by voice and gesture; he took her hands
in his. She snatched them from him, and burst into a fit of hysterical
crying, which ended in a faintness almost as of death. He did not dare to
call assistance; an unguarded word might have slipped out unawares.
Shut them in; shut them in! they had need to be alone in a scene such as
that.
Lord and Lady Hartledon went down to Calne, as she wished. But not
immediately; some two or three weeks elapsed, and during that time Mr.
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