“I pity you--I pity you! That's all I can say.”
“You have no reason to pity me. I am the happiest girl in this world--in this world?--in any world. Heaven holds no happiness that is greater than mine. Ah, my dearest, you have been so kind to me--you and Fate--I have no thought for you that is not full of love. What woman would do as you have done for me? Who would be so kind to a stranger--perhaps an impostor?”
“I wish to show my kindness now; that is why I entreat of you, with all my soul, to leave this place--never to see Claude Westwood again.”
Clare was at the further end of the room, but when Agnes had spoken she returned slowly to her side.
“Agnes,” she said, in a low and serious voice, “Agnes, if you wish me to leave your house I shall do so at once--this very evening. You have the right to turn me out--no, I do not wish to make use of such a phrase. I should say that you have a right to tell me that your plans do not admit of my being your visiter longer than to-night; and, believe me, I will not accuse you of any lack of courtesy or kindness toward me. I shall simply go away. But if you tell me that I am to forsake the man who loves me and whom I love, I shall simply tell you that you know me as imperfectly as you know him.”
“As imperfectly as I know him!” said Agnes, slowly. Her eyes were upon Clare as she spoke; then she went to the window and looked out. There was a pause of long duration before the girl once again moved to her side, saying:
“Dear Agnes, cannot you see that in this matter nothing that you might do or say could move me? If you were to tell me that he is a criminal--that he is the wickedest man living, I should not change in my love for him.”
“I pity you, with all my soul,” said Agnes. “And if the time comes when you will, with bitterness and tears, admit that I warned you--that I advised you to place between you the broadest and deepest ocean that flows--you will hold me blameless.”
“I will admit that you have done your best to separate us,” said Clare, smiling, as she put an arm round Agnes. Her smile was that of an elder sister humouring a younger. “And now we will say no more about this horrid affair, if you please. We shall be to each other what we were before Claude Westwood came here to disturb us.”