Her breath fluttered.

"It was quite an accident that I was there. But how could I help
listening? I must know--I ought to know--what your Catholic friends
think--what they say of me to you!"

She was conscious of a childish petulance. But it was as though she could
not help herself.

"I wish you had not listened," he said, with gentle steadiness. "Won't
you trust those things to me?"

"What power have I beside theirs?" she said, turning away her head. He
saw the trembling of the soft throat, and bent over her.

"I only ask you, for both our sakes, not to test it too far!"

And taking her hand by force, he crushed it passionately in his own.

But she was only half appeased. Her mind, indeed, was in that miserable
state when love finds its only pleasure in self-torment.

With a secret change of ground she asked him how he was going to spend
the day. He answered, reluctantly, that there was a Diocesan Committee
that would take the afternoon, and that the morning must be largely given
to the preparation of papers.

"But you will come and look in upon me?--you will help me through?"