Suspicion, Annie!

　　She stood quite  still, before the  Doctor, and spoke  with an earnestness  that thrilled me.  Yet her voice was just as quiet as before.

　　'When he was waiting  to be the object  of your munificence, so  freely bestowed for my sake, and when I was unhappy in the mercenary shape I was made to wear, I thought it  would have  become him  better to  have worked  his own  way on.   I thought that  if I  had been  he, I  would have  tried to  do it, at the cost of almost any  hardship.  But  I thought  no worse  of him,  until the night of his departure for India.  That night I knew  he had a false and thankless heart.   I saw a double meaning, then, in Mr. Wickfield's scrutiny of me.  I perceived, for the first time, the dark suspicion that shadowed my life.'

　　'Suspicion, Annie!' said the Doctor.  'No, no, no!'

　　'In your mind  there was none,  I know, my  husband!' she returned.  'And when I came to you, that night,  to lay down all my  load of shame and grief,  and knew that I had to tell  that, underneath your roof, one  of my own kindred, to  whom you had  been a  benefactor, for  the love  of me,  had spoken  to me words that should have found no utterance, even if I had been the weak and mercenary wretch he thought me - my mind revolted from the taint the very tale conveyed.  It died upon my lips, and from that hour till now has never passed them.'

　　Mrs. Markleham, with a short groan,  leaned back in her easy-chair; and  retired behind her fan, as if she were never coming out any more.

　　'I have  never, but  in your  presence, interchanged  a word  with him from that time;  then,  only  when  it  has  been  necessary  for  the  avoidance  of this explanation.  Years have passed since he knew, from me, what his situation  here was.   The kindnesses  you have  secretly done  for his  advancement, and   then disclosed to me, for my surprise and pleasure, have been, you will believe,  but aggravations of the unhappiness and burden of my secret.'

　　She sunk down gently at the Doctor's  feet, though he did his utmost to  prevent her; and said, looking up, tearfully, into his face:

　　'Do not speak to  me yet!  Let me  say a little more!   Right or wrong, if  this were to be done again,  I think I should do  just the same.  You never  can know what it  was to  be devoted  to you,  with those  old associations; to find that anyone could be so hard  as to suppose that the  truth of my heart was  bartered away, and to be  surrounded by appearances confirming  that belief.  I was  very young, and had no adviser.  Between mama  and me, in all relating to you,  there was a  wide division.   If I  shrunk into  myself, hiding  the disrespect  I had undergone, it was because  I honoured you so  much, and so much  wished that you should honour me!'