“It was that man Despencer who told me first.” “And you listened to him--you, an honorable man, and my friend?” Hammond bowed his head. He thought he could bear her reproaches now. “Go on; you can say nothing to me that I have not said already to myself. I have been a brute, a fool; I know it. I did give him the lie once, but his words rankled in my mind, and I could not rest till I had had the charge disproved.” “If you are satisfied, go.” Hammond started and shivered. He had not heard that tone before; he had not seen that deeply resolute expression, in which Belle’s face was set like stone. “Oh, not like this! You will forgive me, Belle? You must! This lie has tortured me far worse than you.” He might have made the excuse that he had only repeated the slander for her sake, and not for the satisfaction of his own doubts. But he scorned to stoop to subterfuge with her. “Why should I? Your good opinion or your friendship are nothing to me any longer.” “My good opinion--friendship! Ah, it is more than that! You know, you must know, that I have loved you all the time!” “So much the worse. For you to speak of love to me is only another insult.” “I did not mean to insult you,” was the humble answer. “I meant to offer you the love that a man offers to his betrothed.” “Does a man cast suspicions on his betrothed?” “I have not cast suspicions. My worst fault is to have listened to those of others. There is no love without jealousy.” “There is no love without perfect trust. If a man really loves a woman, does he set himself to doubt her, to gather up the malicious tattle of her enemies, and carry it to her, like an accusing judge, and ask her to clear herself? Ah, no! If he loves her, he first crushes the slander and the enemy together, and then comes to tell her what he has done.” “Listen to me.” “Wait! But I cannot expect to be treated like that. My good name is of no importance to me; I am public property. There would be nothing to talk about in the club smoking-rooms if we poor singers were to be respected. It is natural that we should be bad. And so you come to me and repeat the accusations which you had not the courage to despise. And that is your love!” “I implore you--” “No! With us poor girls it is different. We have not your prudence and self-restraint. Where we love we do not ask for references. We give our hearts without reserve, and from the moment we have given them, instead of searching for stains on the character of the man we love, we set ourselves to see only the good in him; we shut our eyes to the evil; we screen his faults; if others attack him, we defend him; and if the world casts him out, we cling to him all the more.” Her voice sank down and ended in a sob. Hammond clasped his hands together in despair. “Why did I ever hesitate? I was a coward. I dreaded the idea of even a whisper being raised against my wife. Forgive me.” “And you were right. Yes, I forgive you.”