Both the brothers looked at me.
"Have you nothing to say, Madame Pratolungo?" asked Nugent.
Oscar was too painfully agitated to speak. He softly crossed to my chair; and, kneeling by me, put my hand entreatingly to his lips.
You may consider me a heartless woman if you will. I remained entirely unmoved even by this. Lucilla's interests and my interests, you will observe, were now one. I had resolved, from the first, that she should not be married in ignorance of which was the man who was disfigured by the blue face. If she took the course which would enable her to make that discovery for herself, at the right time, she would spare me the performance of a very painful and ungracious duty--and she would marry, as I was determined she should marry, with a full knowledge of the truth.
In this position of affairs, it was no business of mine to join the twin-brothers in trying to make her alter her resolution. On the contrary, it was my business to confirm her in it.
"I can't see that I have any right to interfere," I said. "In Lucilla's place--after one and twenty years of blindness--I too should sacrifice every other consideration to the consideration of recovering my sight."
Oscar instantly rose, offended with me, and walked away to the window.
Lucilla's face brightened gratefully. "Ah!" she said, "_you_ understand me!" Nugent, in his turn, left his chair. He had confidently calculated, in his brother's interests, on Lucilla's marriage preceding the recovery of Lucilla's sight. That calculation was completely baffled. The marriage would now depend on the state of Lucilla's feelings, after she had penetrated the truth for herself. I saw Nugent's face darken, as he walked to the door.
"Madame Pratolungo," he said, "you may, one day, regret the course that you have just taken. Do as you please, Lucilla--I have no more to say."
He left the room, with a quiet submission to circumstances which became him admirably. Now, as always, it was impossible not to compare him advantageously with his vacillating brother. Oscar turned round at the window, apparently with the idea of following Nugent out. At the first step he checked himself. There was a last effort still left to make.
Reverend Finch's "moral weight" had not been thrown into the scale yet.
"There is one thing more, Lucilla," he said, "which you ought to know before you decide. I have seen your father. He desires me to tell you that he is strongly opposed to the experiment which you are determined to try."
Lucilla sighed wearily. "It is not the first time that I find my father failing to sympathize with me," she said. "I am distressed--but not surprised. It is _you_ who surprise me!" she added, suddenly raising her voice. "You, who love me, are not one with me, when I am standing on the brink of a new life. Good Heavens! are my interests not your interests in this? Is it not worth your while to wait till I can _look at you_ when I vow before God to love, honor, and obey you? Do you understand him?" she asked, appealing abruptly to me. "Why does he try to start difficulties? why is he not as eager about it as I am?"
I turned to Oscar. Now was the time for him to fall at her feet and own it! Here was the golden opportunity that might never come again. I signed to him impatiently to take it. He tried to take it--let me do him the justice now, which I failed to do him at the time--he tried to take it.
He advanced towards her; he struggled with himself; he said, "There is a motive for my conduct, Lucilla----" and stopped. His breath failed him; he struggled again; he forced out a word or two more: "A motive," he went on, "which I have been afraid to confess----" he paused again, with the perspiration pouring over his livid face.
Lucilla's patience failed her. "What is your motive?" she asked sharply.
The tone in which she spoke broke down his last reserves of resolution.
He turned his head suddenly so as not to see her. At the final moment--miserable, miserable man!--at the final moment, he took refuge in an excuse.
"I don't believe in Herr Grosse," he said faintly, "as you believe in him."
Lucilla rose, bitterly disappointed, and opened the door that led into her own room.
"If it had been you who were blind," she answered, "_your_ belief would have been _my_ belief, and _your_ hope _my_ hope. It seems I have expected too much from you. Live and learn! live and learn!"
She went into her room, and closed the door on us. I could bear it no longer. I got up, with the firm resolution in me to follow her, and say the words which he had failed to say for himself. My hand was on the door, when I was suddenly pulled back from it by Oscar. I turned, and faced him in silence.
"No!" he said, with his eyes fixed on mine, and his hand still on my arm.
"If I don't tell her, nobody shall tell her for me."
"She shall be deceived no longer--she must, and shall, hear it," I answered. "Let me go!"
"You have given me your promise to wait for my leave before you open your lips. I forbid you to open your lips."
I snapped the fingers of my hand that was free, in his face. "_That_ for my promise!" I said. "Your contemptible weakness is putting her happiness in peril as well as yours." I turned my head towards the door, and called to her. "Lucilla!"
His hand closed fast on my arm. Some lurking devil in him that I had never seen yet, leapt up and looked at me out of his eyes.
"Tell her," he whispered savagely between his teeth; "and I will contradict you to your face! If you are desperate, I am desperate too. I don't care what meanness I am guilty of! I will deny it on my honor; I will deny it on my oath. You heard what she said about you at Browndown.
She will believe _me_ before _you._"
Lucilla opened her door, and stood waiting on the threshold.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
