I think
that he did not explain the cause of his hatred, though, of course, my
memory as to what took place at that moment is disturbed and imperfect;
but I did know in my heart why it was that he had quarrelled with me."
"Why was it?" Florence asked.
"Because he thought that I had ventured to love you."
"No, no!" shrieked Florence; "he could not have thought that."
"He did think so, and he was right enough. If I have never said so
before, I am bound at any rate to say it now." He paused for a moment,
but she made him no answer. "In the struggle between us he fell on the
pavement against a rail;--and then I left him."
"Well?"
"He has never been heard of since. On the following day, in the
afternoon, I left London for Buston; but nothing had been then heard of
his disappearance. I neither knew of it nor suspected it. The question
is, when others were searching for him, was I bound to go to the police
and declare what I had suffered from him that night? Why should I
connect his going with the outrage which I had suffered?"
"But why not tell it all?"
"I should have been asked why he had quarrelled with me. Ought I to have
said that I did not know? Ought I to have pretended that there was no
cause? I did know, and there was a cause.
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