His words
were bitterly cruel; they stung her with sharp pain. She had
never seen contempt or scorn before on that kindly, honest face;
now, she read both. Yet, what could she do? Her sister's life
lay in her hands, and she must guard it.
Therefore, she bore the cruel taunts, and only once when the fear
of losing him tortured her, cried out for pity and trust. But he
had no trust; he stabbed her gentle heart with his fierce words,
he seared her with his hot anger; she might, at the expense of
another, have explained all, and stood higher than ever in his
esteem, but she would not do it.
She was almost stunned by the sorrow that had fallen upon her.
She saw him, with haughty, erect bearing, quit the drawing room,
and she knew that unless Beatrice permitted her to tell the
truth, she would never see his face again. She went straight to
her sister's room and waited for her.
The pale face grew calm and still; her sister could not refuse
her request when she had told her all; then she would write to
Lionel and explain. He would not leave Earlescourt; he would
only love her the better for her steadfast truth.
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