I had no fear of _that_.'
'Why, then, did he frame these lies, these hellish lies?'
'Alas!' cried Veranilda, clasping her hands above her head. 'Did he
still live, the truth might be discovered. His first words to me, in
the night when he stood beside the carriage, sounded so kind and
true; he named himself the friend of Basil, said that Basil awaited
me at the journey's end. How could he speak so, if he indeed then
thought you what he afterwards said? Oh, were he alive, to stand
face to face with me again!'
'It is not enough,' asked Basil harshly, 'that I tell you he lied?'
She did not on the instant reply, and he, possessed with unreasoning
bitterness, talked wildly on.
'No! You believed him, and believe him still. I can well fancy that
he spoke honestly at first; but when he had looked into your face,
when he had talked with you, something tempted him to villainy. Go!
Your tears and your lamentations betray you. It is not of me that
you think, but of him, him, only him! "Oh, were he alive!" Ay, keep
your face bidden; you know too well it could not bear my eyes upon
it.
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