You honored me, as a sort of accomplice, with a private piece
of advice. Thank God, I did not take it, for then I should have been
your debtor.
"As it is, I owe you absolutely nothing--not even the wealthy husband
you promised me. There is a bottom to my depths. And even if I did owe
you something, I should not hesitate to speak. You can call me a
traitor if you like--I don't care. I am that--and I have been far
worse than that to a man who did not deserve it--and I have, anyhow,
not much reputation to lose. Besides, you have stood by without a
word and let an innocent man bear your burden, and for that alone
you have no right to claim loyalty from another."
She turned for the first time to Nehal Singh, and met his gaze boldly and
recklessly. "Do not stand there and call yourself a dishonored man!" she
exclaimed with increasing force. "You are not dishonored. Do not call
Mr. Travers your 'tool.' He is not your tool, and never has been. You
are his tool,--his and mine!" She paused, catching her breath as she saw
him wince. Then she went on: "Don't burden yourself with the consciences
of us all, for we have not got any; and what has been done we have done
knowingly and wilfully. Do you remember that evening when you found me in
the temple? You thought it was--chance--or--or the hand of God. Why,
Mr. Travers hired one of your old servants to slip me through by the
secret path, and I had on my prettiest frock and my prettiest smile and
my prettiest ways--as I told them all afterward at a dinner-party--pious
goodness, with a relieving touch of the devil--just to tempt you out of
your cloister and make you do what we wanted.
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