"You have heard that my mother is dead?" she asked, in a low voice. "She died in my arms half an hour after we got in; and I am so glad,--so glad. I have been thanking God in my heart ever since. She never knew me; she knew none of us, but Yossof; and that only because he had been near her in that dreadful place. You saw her--just for a moment; you saw something of what those long years had made of her,--and we--my God, we had thought her dead all that time!"
She shuddered, and sat staring with stern, sombre eyes at the fire, her slender fingers convulsively interlaced.
She was silent for a space, and so was I, for I could find never a word to say.
"Maurice Wynn, if ever the time comes when you might blame me, condemn me,--justifiably enough,--think of my mother's history. Remember that I was brought up with one fixed purpose in life,--to avenge her, even when I only thought her dead. How much more should that vengeance be, now that I know all that she had to suffer! And she is only one among thousands who have suffered,--who are suffering as much,--yes, and more! There is but one way,--to crush, to destroy, the power that has done,--that is doing these deeds. It will not be done in our time, but we are at least preparing the way; within a few days we shall have gone some distance along it--with a rush--towards our goal. I tell you that to further this work I would--I will--do anything; sacrifice even those who are dearer to me than my own soul! Therefore, as I said, remember that, when you would condemn me for aught I have done, or shall do!"
"I can never condemn you, Anne; you know that well! The queen can do no wrong!"
The fire that had flashed into her eyes faded, dimmed, I thought, by a mist of tears.
"You are indeed a true knight, Maurice Wynn," she said wistfully. "I do not deserve such devotion; no, don't interrupt me, I know well what I am saying, and perhaps you also will know some day. I have deceived you in many ways; you know that well enough--"
"As I now know your purpose," I answered. "But why didn't you trust me at first, Anne? When we were in London? Don't think I'm blaming you, I'm not, really; but surely you must have known, even then, that you might have trusted me,--yes, and Mary, too."