"Did she say so?"
"I cannot affirm that she said so: no such confession as I love this man or that, passed her lips."
"I thought not."
"But the feeling made its way in spite of her, and I saw it. She spoke of one man in a strain not to be misunderstood: her voice alone was sufficient testimony. Having wrung from her an opinion on your character, I demanded a second opinion ofanother person about whom I had my conjectures; though they were the most tangled and puzzled conjectures in the world. I would make her speak: I shook her, I chid her, I pinched her fingers when she tried to put me off with gibes and jests in her queer, provoking way, and at last, out it came: the voice, I say, was enough; hardly raised above a whisper, and yet such a soft vehemence in its tones. There was no confession—no confidence in the matter: to these things she cannot condescend; but I am sure that man's happiness is dear to her as her own life."
"Who is it?"
"I charged her with the fact; she did not deny; she did not avow, but looked at me: I saw her eyes by the snow-gleam. It was quite enough: I triumphed over her mercilessly."
"What right had you to triumph? Do you mean to say you are fancy-free?"
"Whatever I am, Shirley is a bondswoman. Lioness! She has found her captor. Mistress she may be of all round her—but her own mistress she is not."
