The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 65: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

48 REYNOLDS’ WORKS idea naturally flashed all in a moment to Kate’s mind that the lady must be sufficiently aware of her husband’s true character — possibly acquainted, also, with a_ sufficiency of his antecedents — to enable her to make the painful surmise of what had actually taken place. Her own un- easiness was therefore wrought up to the highest; her con- fusion was enhanced into bewilderment. She knew not what to say; her own position was most painful. If ques- tioned pointedly, how could she deny what had taken place? But on the other hand, how could she admit it? To distress this kind-hearted lady who in the space of a few minutes had shown her so much sympathy, was an alter- native to which she could not easily bring herself; and yet, as she still gazed on that fearfully pale countenance, and looked into those dark eyes where an unnatural light seemed burning, she felt convinced that the injured and outraged wife had indeed but too well conjectured what had passed at the interview between herself and the minister. “Miss Marshall,’ said the lady, resuming her seat, and making an evidently powerful endeavour to subdue her emotions, “‘ you have not told me all, but I again thank you for having suppressed that which you have left unex- plained. Ah, 1t was not without reason I involuntarily ob- served just now that you too are unhappy, — meaning thereby that in such unhappiness there was perhaps too much cause for the existence of sympathy between us.”’ ‘‘ Lady,’ answered Kate, in a voice deeply compassionat- ing this avowal of affliction on the part of the minister’s wife, ‘‘ if for a moment my presence beneath this roof should have led to aught that has given you pain, most sincerely and deeply do I regret it. You have shown me so much kind sympathy — and sympathy to one in my position is so sweet — that not for worlds could I find it in my heart to be the source of annoyance. Let me go, madam. I will take elsewhere the burden of my own sorrows — ”’ ‘Miss Marshall,’ interrupted the minister’s wife, “ there is something savouring of reproachfulness in your tone, your look, and your manner. Ah, if a doubt had previously re- mained in my mind, it would now be cleared up. Yes, it is indeed so. There is confirmation of my painful conjecture in every syllable you have uttered, in every glance you have flung upon me. Oh,” she cried, wringing her hands EORNIECLOOOKS (E@) m