'No,' he returned coldly; 'I will confess the truth: it is the best. In our hearts we are not friends, you and I. From the first I have mistrusted you. I have always felt there was something I could not understand. Friends do not have these feelings; but, all the same, I wish to help you.' 'Oh, that is kind; and now I do not mind your hard words.' 'But I must help you in my own way. To-morrow I shall come to you, and you must tell me the whole truth, and whether this man Matthew O'Brien be your husband or not.' 'I tell you--' she began excitedly, but he checked her very gently. 'Hush! Do not speak now; you will make yourself ill again.' 'Oh yes,' she said, falling back on her seat. 'I have palpitations still. I must not excite myself.' 'Just so; and to-morrow you will be calmer and more collected, and you will have made up your mind that the truth will be best because----' he paused, as though not certain how to proceed. 'Because of what?' she asked sharply; and he could detect strained anxiety in her tone. 'Because it will be better for you to tell your story in your own way, far better than for me to hear it from Mr. O'Brien.' 'You would go to him?' and there was unmistakable alarm in her voice. 'Most certainly I would go to him. This is a very important matter to others as well as yourself, Mrs. Blake.' 'I will kill myself,' she said wildly, 'before I tell any such story! You have no heart, Captain Burnett; you are treating me with refined cruelty; you want to bring me to shame because you hate me, and because----' But again he checked her: 'Do not exhaust yourself with making all these speeches; you will need all your strength. I will come to you to-morrow evening, and if you will tell me the truth I will promise to help you as far as possible. Surely at such a crisis you will not refuse such help as I may be able to offer you, if only----' he paused, and there was deep feeling in his voice, 'for your children's sake.' But though he could hear her sob as though in extremity of anguish, she made him no answer, nor could he induce her to speak again until they reached the Gray Cottage, where the fly stopped, and he got out and assisted her to alight. She kept her face averted from him. 'I will be with you to-morrow,' he repeated, as he touched her hand. But to this there was no audible reply; she only bowed her head as she passed through the gate he held open for her, and disappeared from his sight. CHAPTER XXXII 'I DID NOT LOVE HIM' 'When a man begins to do wrong, he cannot answer for himself how far he may be carried on. He does not see beforehand; he cannot know where he will find himself after the sin is committed. One false step forces him to another.'--NEWMAN. 'An Italian proverb, too well known, declares that if you would succeed you must not be too good.'--EMERSON.