She turned her face aside. Veiled as it was by the gathering gloom, she yet could not keep it towards me. But after a brief pause she looked at me and said, ‘You know more than--I do not know what you mean.’ ‘I do know more than you think I know. I will tell you under what circumstances I came to such knowledge.’ She stood motionless. ‘One evening,’ I went on, ‘after leaving Moldwarp Hall with Charles Osborne, I returned to the library to fetch a book. As I entered the room where it lay, I heard voices in the armoury. One was the voice of Geoffrey Brotherton--a man you told me you hated. The other was yours.’ She drew herself up, and stood stately before me. ‘Is that your accusation?’ she said. ‘Is a woman never to speak to a man because she detests him?’ She laughed--I thought drearily. ‘Apparently not--for then I presume you would not have asked me to meet you.’ ‘Why should you think I hate _you_?’ ‘Because you have been treacherous to me.’ ‘In talking to Geoffrey Brotherton? I do hate him. I hate him more than ever. I spoke the truth when I told you that.’ ‘Then you do not hate me?’ ‘No.’ ‘And yet you delivered me over to my enemy bound hand and foot, as Delilah did Samson.--I heard what you said to Brotherton.’ She seemed to waver, but stood--speechless, as if waiting for more. ‘I heard you tell him that I had taken that sword--the sword you had always been urging me to take--the sword you unsheathed and laid on my bed that I might be tempted to take it--why I cannot understand, for I never did you a wrong to my poor knowledge. I fell into your snare, and you made use of the fact you had achieved to ruin my character, and drive me from the house in which I was foolish enough to regard myself as conferring favours rather than receiving them. You have caused me to be branded as a thief for taking--at your suggestion--that which was and still is my own!’ ‘Does Charley know this?’ she asked, in a strangely altered voice. ‘He does. He learned it yesterday.’ ‘O my God!’ she cried, and fell kneeling on the grass at my feet. ‘Wilfrid! Wilfrid! I will tell you all. It was to tell you all about this very thing that I asked you to come. I could not bear it longer. Only your tone made me angry. I did not know you knew so much.’ The very fancy of such submission from such a creature would have thrilled me with a wild compassion once; but now I thought of Charley and felt cold to her sorrow as well as her loveliness. When she lifted her eyes to mine, however--it was not so dark but I could see their sadness--I began to hope a little for my friend. I took her hand and raised her. She was now weeping with down-bent head. ‘Clara, you shall tell me all. God forbid I should be hard upon you! But you know I cannot understand it. I have no clue to it. How could you serve me so?’