“You go too far,” said Bernard. “To what position does your extraordinary proposal relegate your wife?”
Gordon turned his pleading eyes on his old friend without a ray of concession; but for a moment he hesitated. “Don’t speak to me of my wife. I have no wife.”
“Ah, poor girl!” said Angela, springing up from the sofa.
“I am perfectly serious,” Gordon went on, addressing himself again to her. “No, after all, I am not crazy; I see only too clearly—I see what should be; when people see that, you call them crazy. Bernard has no right—he must give you up. If you really care for him, you should help him. He is in a very false position; you should n’t wish to see him in such a position. I can’t explain to you—if it were even for my own sake. But Bernard must have told you; it is not possible that he has not told you?”
“I have told Angela everything, Gordon,” said Bernard.
“I don’t know what you mean by your having done me a wrong!” the girl exclaimed.
“If he has told you, then—I may say it! In listening to him, in believing him.”
“But you did n’t believe me,” Bernard exclaimed, “since you immediately went and offered yourself to Miss Vivian!”
“I believed you all the same! When did I ever not believe you?”
“The last words I ever heard from Mr. Wright were words of the deepest kindness,” said Angela.