“Why do you ask that?” he said, removing his hand from the handle of the door.
“In order to prevent any mistake,” said she. “You have probably sent forward to the proper authorities the name of Clare Tristram.”
He was grave. He shook his head sadly, and put his hand upon the lock of the door once again. He somehow suggested that he expected her to tell him that it was not the name of Clare Tristram but of Agnes Mowbray which should by right be or the special licence, beside his name.
She took a step toward him, as if she were about to speak angrily; but she checked herself.
“There is no such person as Clare Tristram,” she said.
He gave a single glance toward her. Then he sighed and shook his head gently as before. He turned the handle of the door.
“Don't open that door, for God's sake! She is the daughter of Carton Standish, who killed your brother.”
He did not give a start nor did he utter a cry as she whispered those words. He only turned and looked at her. He looked at her for a long time--several seconds. The silence was awful. The clock on the bracket chimed the second quarter.
“My God! mad--this woman is mad!” he said, in a whisper that sounded like a gasp.
She made no attempt to reply. He went to her.
“What have you said?” he asked. “I don't seem to recollect. Did you say anything?”
“I stated a fact,” she replied. “I am sincere when I say that I would to God it were not true.”
“She--she--my beloved--the daughter--it is a lie--you have told me a lie--confess that it is a lie!”
“I cannot, even though you should make your fingers meet upon my arm!”
He almost flung her away from him. He had grasped her by the wrist. He covered his face with his hands. She looked at her wrist--the red marks over the white flesh.
“I'll not believe it!” he cried suddenly. “Agnes, Agnes; you will confess that it is a falsehood?”
“I'll not believe it. Proofs--where are your proofs?”
“This is the letter which she brought to me from her mother--the letter written by her mother on her deathbed.”
She unlocked an escritoire, and took out a letter. He glanced at it, and gave a cry of agony.
“O God--my God! And I cursed him--I cursed him and every one belonging to him!”
He threw himself into a chair and bowed his head down to his hands.