never said that I suspected you of anything."

"Say that you are sure that in regard to this man I never said, or did,
or thought anything that was wrong. Come, George, have I not a right to
expect that from you?" She had come round the table and was standing
over him, touching his shoulder.

"Even then it would be better that you should go away from him."

"No!"

"I say that it would be better, Mary."

"And I say that it would be worse,--much worse. What? Will you bid your
wife make so much of any man as to run away from him? Will you let the
world say that you think that I cannot be safe in his company? I will
not consent to that, George. The running away shall not be mine. Of
course you can take me away, if you please, but I shall feel----"

"Well!"

"You know what I shall feel. I told you last night."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, after a pause.

"Nothing."

"I am to hear these stories and not even to tell you that I have heard
them?"

"I did not say that, George. I suppose it is better that you should
tell me. But I think you should say at the same time that you know them
to be false." Even though they were false, there was that doctrine of
Caesar's wife which she would not understand! "I think I should be told,
and then left to regulate my own ways accordingly." This was mutinously
imperious, and yet he did not quite know how to convince her of her
mutiny. Through it all he was cowed by the remembrance of that
love-letter, which, of course, was in her mind, but which she was
either too generous or too wise to mention. He almost began to think
that it was wisdom rather than generosity, feeling himself to be more
cowed by her reticence than he would have been by her speech.

"You imagine, then, that a husband should never interfere."

"Not to protect a wife from that from which she is bound to protect
herself. If he has to do so, she is not the worth the trouble, and he
had better get rid of her. It is like preventing a man from drinking by
locking up the wine."

"That has to be done sometimes."

"It sha'n't be done to me, George. You must either trust me, or we must
part."

"I do trust you," he said, at last.

"Then let there be an end of all this trouble. Tell Susanna that you
trust me. For your brother and that disappointed young woman I care
nothing. But if I am to spend my time at Cross Hall, whatever they may
think, I should not wish them to believe that you thought evil of me.