The glance of the woman fell before his blazing eye. She had meant to
answer boldly, triumphantly; but the sudden fear that she might not be
believed made her a coward, and forced the realization that she must not
attempt to deceive this man in anything.
"Sometimes one says more than one is able to perform," she whispered
weakly. "Sometimes a woman names a price, and does not know what the
price means, and when the time of settlement comes, will not pay
it—cannot pay it—because there is something in her deeper, more
overruling than her own conscious will, something that refuses to be
betrayed!" The last words were torn out of her throat with desperate
emphasis.
John sat watching the woman critically, with an all but unfriendly eye,
while she struggled over this utterance, yet the very manner of it
compelled him to believe in her absolute sincerity at the moment. Her
revelation was truthful, no doubt, but just what was she revealing? The
substance was so contrary to his presumption that his comprehension was
slow.
"You mean," he began doubtfully—
Marien took instant courage in his doubt; he was almost convinced.
"I mean," she exclaimed, leaping up with an expansive gesture of her
arms, while the jewels, like her eyes, blazed with the intensity of her
emotion: "_I mean that I never paid the price!_" Her voice broke into a
wild crescendo of laughter that was half delirious in its mingled
triumph and joy. Hampstead himself arose involuntarily and stood with a
look first of amazement, and then almost of anger, as he suddenly seized
her wrists, holding them close in his powerful grasp, while he demanded
in tones hoarse with a pleading that was in contrast to his manner:
"Marien, are you telling me the truth?"
The woman faced his searching gaze doubtfully for an instant; then
seeing that the man was actually anxious to believe her, she swayed
toward him, weakened by relief and joy, as she cried impulsively:
"It is the truth! It is the truth! Oh, God knows it is the truth!"
The fierceness of the minister’s grip upon her wrists instantly relaxed,
and he lowered her gently to the cushions, where she sat overcome by her
emotions while he stood gazing at her as on one brought back from the
dead, expressions of wonder and thanksgiving mingled upon his face.
But presently a reminiscent look came into Marien’s eyes, and she began
to speak rapidly, as if eager to confirm her vindication by the summary
of her experiences.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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