CHAPTER XXII.

A DAUGHTER OF EVE.

After Sal had gone, Brian sank into a chair beside Madge with a weary sigh.  He was in riding dress, which became his stalwart figure well, and he looked remarkably handsome but ill and worried.

“What on earth were you questioning that girl about?” he said abruptly, taking his hat off, and tossing it and his gloves on to the floor.

Madge flushed crimson for a moment, and then taking Brian’s two strong hands in her own, looked steadily into his frowning face.

“Why don’t you trust me?” she asked, in a quiet tone.

“It is not necessary that I should,” he answered moodily.  “The secret that Rosanna Moore told me on her death-bed is nothing that would benefit you to know.”

“Is it about me?” she persisted.

“It is, and it is not,” he answered, epigrammatically.

“I suppose that means that it is about a third person, and concerns me,” she said calmly, releasing his hands.

“Well, yes,” impatiently striking his boot with his riding whip.  “But it is nothing that can harm you so long as you do not know it; but God help you should anyone tell it to you, for it would embitter your life.”

“My life being so very sweet now,” answered Madge, with a slight sneer.  “You are trying to put out a fire by pouring oil on it, and what you say only makes me more determined to learn what it is.”

“Madge, I implore you not to persist in this foolish curiosity,” he said, almost fiercely, “it will bring you only misery.”

“If it concerns me I have a right to know it,” she answered curtly.  “When I marry you how can we be happy together, with the shadow of a secret between us?”

Brian rose, and leaned against the verandah post with a dark frown on his face.

“Do you remember that verse of Browning’s,” he said, coolly—­

’Where the apple reddens
Never pry,
Lest we lose our Edens,
Eve and I.’

“Singularly applicable to our present conversation, I think.”

“Ah,” she said, her pale face flushing with anger, “you want me to live in a fool’s paradise, which may end at any moment.”

“That depends upon yourself,” he answered coldly.  “I never roused your curiosity by telling you that there was a secret, but betrayed it inadvertently to Calton’s cross-questioning.  I tell you candidly that I did learn something from Rosanna Moore, and it concerns you, though only indirectly through a third person.  But it would do no good to reveal it, and would ruin both our lives.”

She did not answer, but looked straight before her into the glowing sunshine.

Brian fell on his knees beside her, and stretched out his hands with an entreating gesture.

“Oh, my darling,” he cried sadly, “cannot you trust me?  The love which has stood such a test as yours cannot fail like this.  Let me bear the misery of knowing it alone, without blighting your young life with the knowledge of it.  I would tell you if I could, but, God help me, I cannot—­I cannot,” and he buried his face in his hands.