You ought not
to have painted her, or made much of her and then thrown her over. She
knew--of course she knew, after a time, that you did not mean to propose
to her, and all the evil in her came out. Then she willed to have you in
spite of yourself, believing, if you were married, her affection would
win you in the end. There it was--and you were to blame."
"But why should you defend her, Junia?"
Her tongue became bitter now. "Just as you would, if it was some one
else and not yourself."
His head was sunk on his breast, his eyes were burning. "It was a
horrible thing for Barouche to plan."
"Why so horrible? If you were hiding a marriage for whatever reason, it
should be known to all whose votes you wanted."
"Barouche was the last man on earth to challenge me, for he had a most
terrible secret."
"What was it?" Her voice had alarm, for she had never seen Carnac so
disturbed.
"He was fighting his own son--and he knew it!" The words came in broken
accents.
"He was fighting his own son, and he knew it! You mean to say that!"
Horror was in her voice.
"I mean that the summer before I was born--"
He told her the story as his mother had told it to him. Then at last he
said:
"And now you know Barode Barouche got what he deserved. He ruined my
mother's life; he died the easiest death such a man could die. He has
also spoiled my life.
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