"
"And why, my own?"
"Do not make me feel," she said, "that--though the measured sentences
you have taught me to call scolding seemed the sharpest of all
penances--there is a heavier yet in the silence which withholds
forgiveness."
"What have I yet to forgive, Madonna?"
But Eveena could read my feelings in spite of my words, and knew that
the pain she had given was too recent to allow me to misconceive her
penitence.
"I _ought_ to say, my interference. It was your right to rule as you
chose, and my meddling was a far worse offence than Eunane's malice.
But it was not _that_ you felt too deeply to reprove."
"True! Eunane hurt me a little; but I expected no such misjudgment
from you. By the touch that proved your alarm I know that I gave no
cause for it."
"How so?" she asked in surprise.
"You laid your hand instinctively on my _left_ arm, the one your
people use. Had I made the slightest angry gesture, you would have
held back my _right_. Had I deserved that Eveena should think so ill
of me--think me capable of doing such dishonour to her presence and to
my own roof, which should have protected an equal enemy from that
which you feared for a helpless girl? For what you would have checked
was such a blow as men deal to men who can strike back; and the hand
that had given it would have been unfit to clasp man's in friendship
or woman's in love.
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