CONFIDENCE
there are things in it I don't understand. I travelled over the world, I tried to interest, to divert myself; but at bottom it was a perfect failure. To see you again—that was what I wanted. When I saw you last month at Blanquais I knew it; then everything became clear. It was the answer to the riddle. I wished to read it very clearly—I wished to be sure; therefore I didn't follow you immediately. I questioned my heart—I cross-questioned it. It has borne the examination, and now I am sure. I am very sure. I love you as my life—I beg you listen to me!"
She had listened—she had listened intently, looking straight out of the window, and without moving.
"You have seen very little of me," she said presently, turning her startled eye on him.
"I have seen enough," Bernard added, smiling. "You must remember that at Baden I saw a good deal of you."
"Yes, but that didn't make you like me. I don't understand."
Bernard stood there a moment, frowning, with his eyes lowered.
"I can imagine that. But I think I can explain."
"Don't explain now," said Angela. "You have said enough; explain some other time." And she went out on the balcony.
Bernard, of course, in a moment was beside her, and, disregarding her injunction, he began to explain.
"I thought I disliked you—but I have come to the conclusion it was just the contrary. In reality I was in love with you. I had been so from the first time I saw you—when I made that sketch of you at Siena."
"That in itself needs an explanation. I was not at all nice—then I was very rude, very perverse. I was horrid!"
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