have justified a hundred times! I made a mistake in not telling you at once—but a mistake is not a crime. It can’t be your real feeling that turns you from me—it must be the dread of what other people would think! But when have you cared for what other people thought? When have your own actions been governed by it?”
He moved another step without speaking, and she caught him by the arm. “No! you sha’n’t go—not like that!—Wait!”
She turned and crossed the room. On the lower shelf of the little table by her bed a few books were ranged: she stooped and drew one hurriedly forth, opening it at the fly-leaf as she went back to Amherst.
“There—read that. The book was at Lynbrook—in your room—and I came across it by chance the very day.…”
It was the little volume of Bacon which she was thrusting at him. He took it with a bewildered look, as if scarcely following what she said.
“Read it—read it!” she commanded; and mechanically he read out the words he had written.
“La vraie morale se moque de la morale.… We perish because we follow other men’s examples.… Socrates called the opinions of the many Lamiæ.—Good God!” he exclaimed, flinging the book from him with a gesture of abhorrence.
Justine watched him with panting lips, her knees
[ 523 ]
