Part 60 (1/2)

”Please answer my question,” she said quickly.

But he remained unmoved.

”Elisabeth Durward has surely supplied you with all the information on that subject which you require,” he said in expressionless tones, and Sara was conscious anew of the maddening feeling of impotence with which a contest of wills between herself and Garth never failed to imbue her.

”Garth”--there was appeal in her voice, yet it was still very steady and determined--”I want to know what _you_ say about it. What Elisabeth--or any one else--may say, doesn't matter any longer.”

Something in the quiet depth of emotion in her voice momentarily broke through his guard. He made an involuntary movement towards her, then checked himself, and, with an effort, resumed his former detached manner.

”More important than anything either I, or Elisabeth, can say, is the verdict of the court,” he answered.

The deadly calm of his voice ripped away her last remnant of composure.

”The verdict of the court!” she burst out. ”_d.a.m.n_ the verdict of the court!”

”I have done--many a time!”--bitterly.

”Garth,” she came a step nearer to him and her sombre eyes blazed into his. ”I _will_ have an answer! For G.o.d's sake, don't fence with me any longer! . . . There have been misunderstandings enough, reticences enough, between us. For this once, let us be honest with each other. I pretended I didn't care--I pretended I could go on living, believing you to be what--what they have called you. And I can't! . . . I can't go on. . . . I can't bear it any longer. You must answer me! _Were you guilty?_”

He was white to the lips by the time she had finished, and his eyes held a look of dumb torture. Twice he essayed to answer her, but no sound came.

At last he turned away, as though the pa.s.sionate question in her face--the eager, hungry longing to hear her faith confirmed--were more than he could bear.

”I cannot deny it.” The words came hoa.r.s.ely, almost whispered.

Her eyes never left his face.

”I didn't ask you to deny it,” she persisted doggedly. ”I asked you--were you guilty?”

Again there fell as heavy silence. Then, reluctantly, as if the admission were dragged from him, he spoke.

”I'm afraid I can give you no other answer to that question.”

A light like the tender, tremulous s.h.i.+ning of dawn broke across Sara's face.

”Then you _weren't_ guilty!” she exclaimed, and there was a deep, surpa.s.sing joy in her shaken tones. ”I knew it! I was sure of it. Oh!

Garth, Garth, what a fool I've been! And oh! My dear, why did you do it? Why did you let me go on thinking you--what it almost killed me to think?”

He stared down at her with wondering, uncertain eyes.

”But I've just told you that I can't deny it!”

She smiled at him--a smile of absolute content, with a gleam of humour at the back of it.

”I didn't ask you to deny it. I asked you to own to it; I tried to make you--every way. And you can't!”

”But--”

She laid her hand across his mouth--laughing the tender, triumphant laughter of a woman who has won, and knows that she has.