“Pity! Don’t I tell you that I pity you--pity you whom I used to revere! Great God! can you guess what pain it is to change respect for the creature one loves into pity? I told you that I would never hurt you--that I would never bring shame upon you, Isola. You have no unkindness to fear from me. But you have broken my heart, you have slain my faith in man and woman. I could have staked my life on your purity--I could have killed the man who slandered you--and you swore a false oath--you called upon Heaven to witness a lie!” “I was a miserable creature, Martin. I could not bear to lose your love. If death had been my only penalty I could have borne it, but not the loss of your love.” “And your sister and her husband? They were as ready with their lies as you were,” he exclaimed bitterly. “Don’t blame Gwendolen. I telegraphed to her, imploring her to stand by me--to say that I was in London with her.” “And you were not in London?” “No, except to pass through, when--when I had escaped from him, and was on my way home.” “Escaped! My God! What villainy must have been used against you--so young, so helpless! Tell me all--without reserve--as freely as you want to be forgiven.” “I was not utterly wicked, Martin. I did not sin deliberately--I did not know what I was doing when I wrecked my life and destroyed my peace of mind for ever. I never meant to forget you--or to be false to you--but I was so lonely--so lonely. The days were so dreary and so long--even the short autumn days seemed long--and the evenings were so melancholy without you. And he came into my life suddenly--like a prince in a fairy tale--and at first I thought very little about him. He was nothing more to me than any one else in Trelasco--and then somehow we were always meeting by accident--in the lanes--or by the sea--and he seemed to care for all the things I cared for. The books I loved were his favourites. For a long time we talked of nothing but his travels, and of my favourite books. There was not a word spoken between us that you or any one else could blame.” “A common opening,” said Martin Disney, with scathing contempt. “One of the seducer’s favourite leads.” “And then, one evening in the twilight, he told me that he loved me. I was very angry--and I let him see that I was angry, and I did all I could to avoid him after that evening. I refused to go to the ball at Lostwithiel, knowing that I must meet him there. But they all persuaded me--Mrs. Crowther, Mrs. Baynham, Tabitha--they were all bent upon making me go--and I went. Oh, God, if I had but stood firm against their foolish persuasion, if I had but been true to myself! But my own heart fought against me. I wanted to see him again--if only for the last time. He had talked about starting for a long cruise to the Mediterranean. His yacht was ready to sail at an hours notice.” “You went, and you were lost.”