The Major started, and looked at me very attentively. His manner became grave, his tone changed completely, when he spoke next. “May I ask,” he said, “if you have communicated to your husband the discovery which you have just mentioned to me?” “Certainly!” I answered. “I consider that my husband owes me an explanation. I have asked him to tell me what his extraordinary conduct means--and he has refused, in language that frightens me. I have appealed to his mother--and _she_ has refused to explain, in language that humiliates me. Dear Major Fitz-David, I have no friends to take my part: I have nobody to come to but you! Do me the greatest of all favors--tell me why your friend Eustace has married me under a false name!” “Do _me_ the greatest of all favors;” answered the Major. “Don’t ask me to say a word about it.” He looked, in spite of his unsatisfactory reply, as if he really felt for me. I determined to try my utmost powers of persuasion; I resolved not to be beaten at the first repulse. “I _must_ ask you,” I said. “Think of my position. How can I live, knowing what I know--and knowing no more? I would rather hear the most horrible thing you can tell me than be condemned (as I am now) to perpetual misgiving and perpetual suspense. I love my husband with all my heart; but I cannot live with him on these terms: the misery of it would drive me mad. I am only a woman, Major. I can only throw myself on your kindness. Don’t--pray, pray don’t keep me in the dark!” I could say no more. In the reckless impulse of the moment I snatched up his hand and raised it to my lips. The gallant old gentleman started as if I had given him an electric shock. “My dear, dear lady!” he exclaimed, “I can’t tell you how I feel for you! You charm me, you overwhelm me, you touch me to the heart. What can I say? What can I do? I can only imitate your admirable frankness, your fearless candor. You have told me what your position is. Let me tell you, in my turn, how I am placed. Compose yourself--pray compose yourself! I have a smelling-bottle here at the service of the ladies. Permit me to offer it.” He brought me the smelling-bottle; he put a little stool under my feet; he entreated me to take time enough to compose myself. “Infernal fool!” I heard him say to himself, as he considerately turned away from me for a few moments. “If _I_ had been her husband, come what might of it, I would have told her the truth!” Was he referring to Eustace? And was he going to do what he would have done in my husband’s place?--was he really going to tell me the truth?