Rather she would be turning her back upon any possibility of either hearing of or seeing him again; and though, of course, she could not wish that they should meet, and in the natural sequence of events, they were most unlikely to meet, it would be something only to--oh, anything would be better than that bitter blank, that desolation of ignorance which was so impenetrable, so insurmountable.
Sue knew now about Paul. When Maud died there was no further reason for concealment, and albeit the shock was great, it was a consolation to both sisters to drop the veil between them.
"But you do understand, don't you, that he never--never even when I almost forced it from him, said that it was _I_?" murmured Leo. "I knew it; I felt it; but he did not, he would not say it. Oh, I did so long for him to say it just once--but he never did. Sue, you know that little old jug I have upstairs?" suddenly she broke off, as it appeared inconsequently.
"Little old jug?" Sue reflected, but could not remember. And she wondered somewhat. What could "a little old jug" have to do with the present conversation?
"The one with the French soldier's motto. It used to be on the anteroom mantelpiece at Boldero. Oh, you must remember it, Sue."
"But this was the one I asked you to give me for my own--however, listen. The motto was:--
"Mon âme â Dieu, Ma vie au Roi, Mon coeur aux Dames, L'honneur pour moi."
"Paul noticed it one day, and turned round and said, 'That's splendid,'--and read it again. That was when he first came. And afterwards, when things were getting very bad, I came upon him standing in front of the mantelpiece, staring at the jug. I rather liked it myself, but I didn't see it as he did, for on that dreadful day," she looked down, even when it was only Sue, she looked down--"when Paul saved me from myself----"
"When you were too ill to know what you were doing, darling."
"He looked at me and said with a sort of smile, '_L'honneur pour moi_.' Sue?"
"You know how poor Maud bored us--I mean how she insisted on Paul's religion as if it were something which gave him a sort of _cachet_--something quite over _our_ heads?--and how father--oh, Sue, I must say it--do you remember how father once shut her up by declaring that Paul was too much of a gentleman to introduce unpleasant subjects? It was only father's way, you know. He didn't mean any harm, and I do think, don't you, that father was changed a little, that he was different those last few weeks? He said to me once: 'There's more in it than you think'. Anyway, Sue, he did like and admire Paul."