“Upon my word, Gwendolyn, I have not even prevaricated. Let me know of what I am accused, that I may defend myself; it is not fair to insinuate things of such moment to me without making it possible for me to explain.” “Very well,” she said; “you shall hear my story from the beginning. You remember the day that I was frightened by Bates’ bull?” “Certainly I do.” “Well, I did not sprain my ankle.” “I guessed as much,” he answered coolly. “But I was anxious to find or make some excuse for getting into Borton Hall.” “May I ask why?” “We were coming to that. The evening before we were speaking, if you remember, of most people having a skeleton or two in their cupboard, and you suddenly turned very grave. When I laughed, and said that you looked as if you had a dozen, at least, in yours, you answered, with deep meaning, that one might be as much as any one could bear. You were very silent for the rest of the evening, and I was puzzled, stimulated, pained, all together.” “What, then?” he urged, as she came to an abrupt pause. “I took care to sprain my ankle in flying from Bates’ bull.” “Then you were not frightened by the animal?” “I did not particularly like the look of him, but I should have passed him valiantly enough if I had not seen you coming.” “Well?” “You carried me into your house, and laid me on a couch, while you went for assistance. I had almost a mind to laugh in your face when you bent over me so anxiously at parting, and made me promise to ring for your housekeeper, supposing the pain should increase.” “You played your part splendidly, I must own.” “Of course! for I had a good deal at stake. It was necessary for my peace of mind to discover the skeleton in your cupboard.” “And you succeeded?” he inquired, with suppressed eagerness; his lips whitening as the words passed through them. “Yes, I did. With all my faults, I would never have searched your place, of that you may be sure; but there was no need, the revelation I sought was thrust upon me.” “Ah!” And though there was the gloom of an abiding sorrow in his eyes, there was no shame nor shrinking--excepting so far as we all shrink when a deep wound is probed. “I suppose it was the intervention of Providence,” Lady Gwendolyn went on. “If you had asked me to marry you an hour before I should have accepted you without hesitation, whereas, it was not even right for us to be friends.” “You forget that you have explained nothing yet,” he said hoarsely. “And yet, this suspense is very cruel.” “I do not mean to be cruel,” she said. “I can assure you I have suffered too much myself to take pleasure in another person’s pain; but I am reluctant to recall that most miserable half-hour I passed at Borton Hall. I entered it so full of hope; I left it feeling as if I had nothing to look forward to in the world, since you, whom I had trusted and loved, were false.” “Or, rather, you fancied so.” “It was no fancy, unfortunately. I saw and spoke to your wife.”