"The time since your wife's death can only be
counted by months."
"True. But the time since I loved Lucy can be counted by years. I loved
her before I married," he added in a low tone.
"Why, then, have married another?" demanded Sir Henry, after a pause.
"You may well ask it, Sir Henry," he replied, the upright line in his
brow showing out just then all too deep and plain. "I engaged myself to
my first wife in an unguarded moment; as soon as the word was spoken I
became aware that she was less dear to me than Lucy. I might have
retracted; but the retractation would have left a stain on my honour
that could never be effaced. I am, not the first man who has paid by
years of penitence for a word spoken in the heat of passion."
True enough! Sir Henry simply nodded his head in answer.
"Yes, I loved Lucy; I married another, loving her; I never ceased loving
her all throughout my married life. And I had to force down my feelings;
to suppress and hide them in the best manner that I could."
"And Lucy?" involuntarily uttered Sir Henry.
"Lucy--may I dare to say it to you?--loved me," he answered, his breath
coming fast.
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