Then Burke spoke. "So you think I am not the right man for her."
"I am quite sure of that," said Matilda without looking up.
"That means," Burke spoke slowly, with deliberate insistence, "that
you know she loves another man better."
Matilda was silent.
He bent forward a little, looking straight into her downcast face.
"Mrs. Merston," he said, "you are a woman; you ought to know. Do
you believe--honestly--that she would have been any happier married
to that other man?"
She looked at him then in answer to his unspoken desire. He had
refused to do battle with her. That was her first thought, and she
was conscious of a momentary sense of triumph. Then--for she was a
woman--her heart stirred oddly within her, and her triumph was
gone. She met his quiet eyes with a sudden sharp misgiving. What
had she done?
"Please answer me!" Burke said.
And, in a low voice, reluctantly, she made answer. "I am afraid I
do."
"You know the man?" he said.
She nodded. "I believe--in time--she might have been his
salvation. Everybody thought he was beyond redemption. I know
that. But she--had faith. And they loved each other. That makes
all the difference."
"Ah!" he said.
For the first time he looked away from her, looked out through the
open door over the _veldt_ to that far-distant line of hills that
bounded their world.
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