Now you
know why he has money and what his work is."

"Adela! But--but why didn't you--"

Her voice faded away.

"I couldn't. My hands were tied."

"How?"

"He caught me in a trap. He laid a bait for my vanity, Beryl, and I took
the bait.

"But what was it?"

"He made me believe that he had fallen in love with me. I was a woman of
fifty and he made me believe that! That is how vanity leads us!"

And then she told the girl all the truth about Arabian and herself, all
the truth of ten years ago. Having made up her mind, having begun to do
what Seymour would have called "the right thing," she did not hesitate,
did not spare herself. She went on to the bitter end. But the strange,
the wonderful thing was that it was less bitter than she had thought it
must be. While she was speaking, while she was exposing her own folly,
her own shame even, she began to feel a sense of relief. She gave the
secret which she had kept for ten years to this girl who had treated
her cruelly, and in the giving, instead of abject humiliation, she was
conscious of liberation. Her mind seemed to be released from a long
bondage. Her soul seemed to breathe more freely, like a live thing let
out from a close prison into the air. A strange feeling of being at
peace with herself came to her and comforted her.

"And that is all, Beryl!" she said at last. "Now, do you forgive me?"

Beryl had been standing quite still, with her eyes fixed on Lady
Sellingworth. She had listened without moving. Even her hands had been
still, folded together in front of her. But the colour had come and gone
in her face as she had listened, as it can only come and go in a face
that is young. She was very pale now. Even her lips looked much paler
than usual. She stood there and did not say anything. But her eyes were
no longer fastened on Lady Sellingworth's face. She was looking down
now. Lady Sellingworth could not see her eyes, but only her white
eyelids fringed with long lashes which curled up at the ends.

"I had to tell you, Beryl."

Still the girl said nothing and did not move. But Lady Sellingworth
saw two tears come from under her eyelids and fall down her face. Other
tears followed. She did not take out her handkerchief to wipe them away.
She did not seem to be aware of them, or of any necessity for trying to
stop them from coming. And then she began to shake. She shook from
head to foot, still keeping her hands folded. And that--the folded
hands--made