"What have you to say?" he said. "You must tell me the truth. If you don't, I shall go mad. I do believe you, I will believe you, but you must speak out. You owe it to me to make everything clear." "It can never be clear," said Amethyst. "I don't think you could trust me, and so--if that's so--we had better part." She spoke calmly, and looked him full in the face; he showed much more emotion, turning white and red, and losing the thread of what he meant to say. He dropped her hands, and walked over to the window, leaning against the shutter for a moment or two, and trying to collect himself enough to speak. At last he turned round and said-- "I see it in this way. I couldn't stand any mystery about my wife. I should not forget it. Amethyst, tell me." The misery of the doubt showed itself in stern displeasure. He looked so hard a judge with his clear eyes and frowning brows, that Amethyst, angered and embittered already by the dreadful experience she had undergone, felt that, having once doubted, he would never have faith again. "Then you had better not marry me," she said. "I think you have every right to distrust me; but since you do, I will never marry you. I dare say I am bad--or shall be; I will not injure you." She turned and went out of the room, with a sudden movement, and in the instant's pause that followed, they heard her girlish rush up the long staircase before Lady Haredale said-- "It is your own fault, Mr Leigh; my daughter is above suspicion." "No, Lady Haredale," said Lucian, fiercely, "that cannot be under the circumstances. There is no more to be said." He went out by the open window, walking with long strides across the bright sunny lawn, away from the place that had been as a Paradise to him, leaving all the trustful joy of his young life behind him. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. ALL OVER. Matters did not end at once. Interview after interview filled up the rest of that miserable day. Lord Haredale came down from London, apparently already determined to break off the engagement. Mrs Leigh's determination went steadily in the same direction. She scouted Una's letter as a manifest falsehood, of a piece with the story of the purse, and declared that nothing would induce her to accept Lady Haredale's daughter as her son's wife. As Lucian would not own himself convinced, she proposed a private appeal to Major Fowler, but this he fiercely negatived, saying that the facts were valueless, except as coming from Amethyst herself, and also that Major Fowler could do nothing but echo the denial.