A great
rush of emotion--fear, anguish, hatred, shook my very soul. "Your
scepticism would make Tyndall tear his hair. Angels have no business
to be so sceptical. You are always doubting me, always darkening my
life by your irrational fears."
"But, Victor," answered another voice, which was none other than
Hildegard's, "he is certainly a very good man, and would not tell me
anything he believed to be untrue. Why, then, did he warn me so
solemnly against you? Even though I love you, I cannot help feeling
that there is something in your past which you hide from me."
"If you will listen to that white-livered hypocrite, it is useless for
me to try to convince you. But, if you must know it,--though, mind you,
I tell you this only because you compel me,--I once interfered,
because my conscience forced me to do so, in a very disgraceful
love-affair of his in Denmark. He has hated me ever since, and is now
taking his vengeance. I will give you the details some other time.
Now, are you satisfied?"
"No, Victor, no. I am not. It is not because I have been listening to
others, that I torment you with these ungrateful questions. Sometimes
a terrible dread comes over me, and though my heart rebels against it,
I cannot conquer it.
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