ELIZABETH.

Oh, tell me that you don't see them! It is only to try me. _I_ know they are there. I see them always. But not you. Not a child's eyes!

VERA.

It was only fancy. It was what I seemed to see in the moonlight on the mist. It meant nothing.

ELIZABETH.

Has he told you? Why did he do it? Tell me, has he told you? [_Turns and catches hold of_ VERA.

VERA.

Yes, he has--he has told me----

ELIZABETH.

And you are angry! You can't forgive him! Oh, Vera, you are wrong. Blame me if you like. I did love the child, but it was I who wished it. Every woman living would have wished it! [_Sits on settee._

VERA.

I don't understand. Why are you like this?

ELIZABETH.

I was stupid with weeping when he came that night, and he was so brave and strong. He never feared anything in his life. He called me "Poor child." "Poor child," he said, "do you know why you are unhappy? Because you dare not do the thing that your heart is praying for." . . . Then he took the child out with him and came back alone.

VERA.

What child? Was it his own child? [_Fiercely, starting towards her._]--Tell me, or I will kill you!--and were you its mother?

ELIZABETH.

I thought he had told you.

VERA.

When was it?

ELIZABETH.

Thirty-four--thirty-five years ago; before he went to India. I loved him long before your mother did.

VERA.

You say you loved the child. Didn't you hate him for it?

ELIZABETH.

Hate him? No. I was half mad, I think. I used to watch his face. If there had been a single shadow on it, I think I should have hated him.

But he never changed. He was always untroubled, and his eyes were always true and fearless! Then I knew he could bear all my burdens, and I need fear nothing any more.

VERA.

Why did he not marry you?

ELIZABETH.

He told me from the first he would not. I don't suppose he loved me much; how could he? He was so far above me, so much stronger and wiser.

I got all I wanted afterwards, when he let me come here and look after you.

VERA.

I don't understand you, Elizabeth. [_Vehemently._] Are you mad, and is it all untrue?

ELIZABETH.

The baby's eyes haunt me; I dare not look into deep water. But it is just this that has given me peace.

VERA.

Peace!

ELIZABETH.

It is the want of trust that makes life hard. You cannot be happy without perfect courage; and you cannot have courage without perfect strength. He has both; and they are yours if you trust him.

VERA.

Is it possible to trust any one? Suppose he did what you knew was wrong?

ELIZABETH.

How should I know it was wrong? When I have found a man who stands out above other men, who shrinks from nothing, who is true to himself----

VERA.

[_Shuddering._] But to murder a little thing like that!

ELIZABETH.

It was just the helplessness of the little thing that would have frightened another man. It must be very hard to murder a child. But neither strength nor helplessness can frighten him!

VERA.

[_After a pause._] And have you never doubted him?

ELIZABETH.