"Untruth added to it all! Oh, that I should have been so deceived, blinded, taken in!" "Adam!" "Lovely innocence! It is too much! Go away!" "I will not _stand_ this any longer!" she cried. "I _will_ go away; but not till I have told you why I have acted as I have." "It is too late for that! I do not care to hear!" "Then you _shall_ hear!" she replied. "You shall know that it is because I have believed you capable of speaking to me as you have just spoken; believed you at heart unsparing and unjust. You think I asked you to do what you have done? No! I asked you whether you would be willing to do it; and when you said you would _not_, I saw then--by your voice, your eyes, your whole face and manner--that you _would_. Saw it as plainly at that moment, in spite of your denial, as I see it now--the cruelty in you, the unfaithfulness, the willingness to betray. It was for _this_ reason--not because I heard you refuse, but because I saw you consent--that I could not forgive you." She paused abruptly and looked across into my face. What she may now have read in it I do not know. Then anger swept her on: "How often had I not heard you bitter and contemptuous towards people because _they_ are treacherous, cruel! How often have you talked of _your_ love of nature, of _our_ inhumanity towards lower creatures! But what have _you_ done? "You set your fancy upon one of these creatures, lie in wait for it, beset it with kindness, persevere in overcoming its wildness. You are amused, delighted, proud of your success. One day--you remember?--it sang as you had always wished to hear it. It annoyed you, and you threw a stone at it. With a little less angry aim you would have killed it. I have never seen anything more inhuman. How do I know that some day you would not be tired of me, and throw a stone at _me_? When a woman submits to this once, she will have them thrown at her whenever she sings at the wrong time, and she will never know when the right time is. "Then you thought you were asked to sacrifice it, and now you have done that. How do I know that some day you might not be tempted to sacrifice me?" She paused, her voice breaking, and remained silent, as if unable to get beyond that thought. "If you have finished," I said, very quietly, "I have something to say to you, and we need not meet after this.