Miriam turned to face him. She stood splendidly at bay, her eyes gleaming, her cheeks bloodless, her lithe body in an attitude finer than she knew. They looked into each other's pupils, long, intensely, as if reading the heart there. Miriam's eyes were the first to fall. "I waited till she came out again." "You waited all that time? In the road?" "Yes." "And when you heard that Cecily had not returned home that night, you believed that she had left her husband for ever? "Yes." Mallard drew hack a little, and his voice softened. "Forgive me for losing sight of civility. Knowing this, it was perhaps natural that you should inform your brother of it. You took it for granted that Cecily--however unwise it was of her--had come to tell me of her resolve to leave home, and that I, as her old friend, had seen her safely to the place where she had taken refuge?" He uttered this with a peculiar emphasis, gazing steadily into her face. Miriam dropped her eyes, and made no reply. "You represented it to your brother in this light?" he continued, in the same tone. She forced herself to look at him; there was awed wonder on her face. "There is no need to answer in words. I see that I have understood you. But of course you soon learnt that you had been in part mistaken. Cecily had no intention of leaving her husband, from the first." Miriam breathed with difficulty. He motioned to her to sit down, but she gave no heed. "Then why did she come to you?" fell from her lips. "Please to take your seat again, Mrs. Baske." She obeyed him. He took a chair at a little distance, and answered her question. "She came because she was in great distress, and had no friend in whom she could confide so naturally. This was a misfortune; it should not have been so. It was to _you_ that she should have gone, and I am afraid it was your fault that she could not." "My fault?" "Yes. You had not behaved to her with sisterly kindness. You had held apart from her; you had been cold and unsympathetic. Am I unjust?" "Can one command feelings?" "That is to say, you _felt_ coldly to her. Are you conscious of any reason? I believe religious prejudice no longer influences you?" "No." "Then I am obliged to recall something to your mind. Do you remember that you were practically an agent in bringing about Cecily's marriage? No doubt things would have taken much the same course, however you had acted. But is it not true that you gave what help was in your power? You acted as though your brother's suit had your approval. And I think you alone did so." "You exaggerate. I know what you refer to. Reuben betrayed my lack of firmness, as he betrays every one who trusts in him."