"There is evidence enough!" he said, in a changed voice. "I don't
understand how you can stick up for him."
"I don't," she said sadly, "not if it's true. But I don't want to believe
it. Why should one want to believe the worst, you and I, about anybody?"
Tatham kept an explosive silence for a moment, and then broke out
hoarsely:
"Do you remember, we promised we'd be real friends?--we'd be really frank
with each other? I've kept my bargain. Are you keeping it? Isn't there
something you haven't told me!--something I ought to know?"
"No, nothing!" cried Lydia, with sudden energy. "You misunderstand--you
offend me."
She drew her breath quickly. There were angry tears in her eyes, hidden
by the hood.
A gust of passion swept through Tatham, revealing his manhood to itself.
He stopped, caught her hands, and held them fiercely, imprisoned against
his breast. She must needs look up at him; male strength compelled;
they stood motionless a few seconds under the shadows of the trees.
"If there _is_ nothing--if I _do_ misunderstand--if I'm wrong in what I
think--for God's sake listen to me--give me back my promise. I can't--I
can't keep it!"
He stooped and kissed the fingers he held, once, twice, repeatedly; then
turned away, shading his eyes with his hand.
Lydia said, with a little moan:
"Oh, Harry!--we've broken the spell."
Tatham recovered himself with difficulty.
"Can't you--can't you ever care for me?" The voice
was low, the eyes still hidden.
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