“Yes,” he said, controlling himself with difficulty. “Yes, I know all these and more.” He picked up the package of letters and glanced at the superscription on the outer envelope. Suddenly he raised them to his lips and, with his eyes closed, kissed the words that were written there. Her head drooped and a sob came into her throat. She did not look up until he began speaking to her again, quietly, even patiently. “But why should you, even in your longing for revenge, have planned to humiliate and degrade him even more than I could have done? Was it just to your sister's son that you should blight his life, that you should turn him into a skulking, sneaking betrayer? What would you have gained in the end? His loathing, his scorn. Thérèse, did you not think of all this?” “I have told you that I thought of everything. I was mistaken. I did not stop to think that I would be taking him away from happiness in the shape of love that he might bear for someone else. I did not know that there was a Lydia Desmond. When I came to know my heart softened and my purpose lost most of its force. He would have been safe with me, but would he have been happy? I could not give him the kind of love that Lydia promised. I could only be his mother's sister to him. He was not in love with me. He has always loved Lydia. I fascinated him, just as I fascinated you. He would not have gone away with me, even after you had told him that he was not your son. He would not do that to you, James, in spite of the blow you struck him. He was loyal to Lydia and to himself.” “And what did he think of _you?_” demanded Brood scornfully. “If you had not come upon us here he would have known me for who I am, and he would have forgiven me. I had asked him to go away with me. He refused. Then I was about to tell him the whole story of my life, of his life, and of yours. Do you think he would have refused forgiveness to me? No! He would have understood.” “But up to that hour he thought of you as--what shall I say?” “A bad woman? Perhaps. I did not care. It was part of the price I was to pay in advance. I would have told him everything as soon as the ship on which we sailed was outside the harbour yonder. That was my intention, and I know you believe me when I say that there was nothing more in my mind. Time would have straightened everything out for him. He could have had his Lydia, even though he went away with me. Once away from here, do you think that he would ever return? No! Even though he knew you to be his father, he would not forget that he has never been your son. You have hurt him since he was a babe. Would he forget? Would he forgive? No! When you came into this room and found us, I was about to go down on my knees to him to thank him for saving me from my own designs. I realised then, as I had come to suspect in the past few months, that I had not counted on my own conscience.