as in a
torture-chamber. His body had wasted; his mind ever renewed its
capability of anguish. With all appearances against Egremont, could he
preserve the nice balance of his judgment through an experience such as
this?

Had he seen Egremont at once, after Thyrza's disappearance, it would
not have been so hard for him to credit the denial. The blow was not
felt to its full until the night had passed. Thyrza's exculpation of
Egremont would then have been strong upon the latter's side. But the
fruitless journey frenzied him. It was impossible for him to avoid the
belief that the letter had been contrived to deceive him. All the
suspicions he had entertained grew darker as his suffering increased.
His meeting with Egremont at the end of Newport Street on the Wednesday
night seemed to him beyond doubt condemnatory. He remembered the young
man's haste and obvious agitation. Then Thyrza's words ceased to have
weight; he thought them due to her desire to avert suspicion from her
lover. And now that he was at length face to face with the man whom in
his lonely woe he had cursed as the falsest friend, his ear was keen to
detect every note of treachery, his eyes read Egremont's countenance
with preternatural keenness. Walter could not sustain such proof; his
agitation spoke against him. Only when he at length passed from
uncertain argument and pleading to scornful repudiation of the charge,
did his utterances awake in the hearer the old associations of
sincerity and nobleness. How many a night Gilbert had hung on every
word that fell from him! Could he speak thus and be no more than a
contemptible hypocrite?

Walter paused for a few moments. When no reply came he continued with
the same warmth:

'I have told you that, on those two mornings, when she was with me in
the library, no word passed between us that you might not have heard.
It is true. But one thing I did say to her which doubtless would not
have been said in your presence. She was speaking to me as if to a
superior; I begged her to let there be an end of that, and to allow me
to call myself her friend. I meant it in the purest sense, and in that
sense she understood it. If I was wrong in taking that freedom with
her, at least there was no thought of wrong in my mind.'

'You met her on Wednesday night in that week,' Gilbert said, speaking
with uncertain voice. 'The night that you saw me and said you had been
to Bunce.'

'Do you know of that from some spy, her en