of the whining sentimentality of the
world? Have I not all along insisted that it was a matter of price?'
Then these men said I ought to know, whereupon you threatened them with
terrible punishment if they dared to tell me. Do you pretend to deny
this?"

"I deny everything," said Leicester sullenly. The resurrection of the
past, the destruction of his happiness had unhinged his mind. He
scarcely knew what he was saying, the ground seemed to be dug from under
his feet.

"I wondered whether you were base enough to deny that," she said; "I
even hoped that you were not, but after I had learnt what I have learnt
I dared not believe. My informant asked me to appeal to Mr. Winfield to
verify the truth of this, that was why I told the servant to bring him
with you. Mr. Winfield, have I described exactly what took place? Did
this man say the words I have repeated?"

Winfield, who had been listening like a man in a dream, felt himself
unable to speak. He could not, with Olive's eyes upon him, tell a lie,
and say that what had been told her was false, neither could he, as he
saw the deathly pallor on Leicester's face, and the fearful look in his
eyes, confess the truth.

"You do not speak, Mr. Winfield," she said; "even you cannot support
your friend. Still, if I have misjudged him, it is right that you should
tell the truth. Did he, or did he not say these things?"

"I am sure he did not mean them," said Winfield tamely.

"Thank you; now then, go, Mr. Leicester."

Leicester started like a man who had been stung.

"You surely do not mean that," he cried. "No, no, Olive, you cannot mean
that."

"The disgrace of being the subject of hundreds of gossiping tongues, as
I am at this moment, is nothing to this disgrace of being the subject of
a wager among drunken men. Do you think I could ever speak to you again
after knowing what I know? Even now I feel contaminated by being in your
presence. It is like poison to me. Your every word has been proved to be
lies, your protestations worthy of the creed you profess. Go, then, and
may God forgive you for the pain you have caused."

But Leicester never moved.

"If I were a man," she said, "I would throw you out of the house; and
but for the fact that the servants would talk, I would ring for them at
this moment, that you might be treated as such as you deserve. As it is,
seeing you have not shame enough to leave such a house as this for the
telling, I will leave the room myself