She was
searching the heart of another, not only because she was suspicious, but
because she wanted to know herself better.
"It is easy to remember."
"Is it long since you saw him?"
The question almost carried terror with it, for she was not quite sure
why Mrs. Falchion questioned her. She lifted her eyes slowly, and there
was in them anxiety and joy. "It seems," she said, "like years."
"He loves some one else, perhaps?"
"Yes, I think so, madame."
"Did you hate her?"
"Oh no; I am glad for him."
Here Mrs. Falchion spoke sharply, almost bitterly. Even through her soft
colour a hardness appeared. "You are glad for him? You would see another
woman in his arms and not be full of anger?"
"Quite."
"Justine, you are a fool."
"Madame, there is no commandment against being a fool."
"Oh, you make me angry with your meekness!" Here Mrs. Falchion caught a
twig from a tree by her, snapped it in her fingers, and petulantly threw
its pieces to the ground. "Suppose that the man had once loved you, and
afterwards loved another--then again another?"
"Madame, that would be my great misfortune, but it might be no wrong in
him.
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