It was a churlish return, and she had been gentle. The chill that fell
between us was of my making. I knew that with every second of silence
I was putting myself more deeply in the wrong. But I had to ask one
thing more.
"Madame, they tell me here that you say that you regret our
marriage,--that I forced you to bear my name. Have you said that?"
I could not be blind to the hurt in her face. "Monsieur, how can you
ask?"
And then I was shamed. I knelt again to her hand. "Only to prove in
open words that Lord Starling lied. Did you think I doubted? No,
madame, no woman of our house has ever had finer pride or a truer
instinct. Believe me, I see that. But so the story flies. Madame,
all eyes are on us. We must define the situation in some manner as
regards the world. May I talk to you of this?"
The hand under my lips grew warm. "Monsieur, we are to wait. When we
reach Montreal"----
"But, madame! These intervening months! It will be late autumn before
we return to Montreal."
She drew in her breath. "Late autumn! Monsieur, what are your plans?
You forget that I know nothing. And tell me of your escape."
I rose and looked down at her. "We have both escaped," I said, and
because emotion was smiting me my voice was hard.
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