Rebuke me as you will; call me by the name I merit; utter all the disdain you must needs feel for a man so weak and false--' His speech was checked upon that word.

Veranilda had arrested him with a sudden look, a look of pain, of fear.
'False ?' fell from her lips.
'Can _you_ forget it, O Veranilda?
Would that I could!' 'In your anger,' she said, 'as when perchance you were already distraught with fever, you spoke I know not what.

Therein you were not false to me.' 'False to myself; I should have said.

To you, never, never! False to my faith in you, false to my own heart which knew you faithful; but false as men are called who--' Again his voice sank.

A memory flashed across him, troubling his brow.
'What else were you told ?' he asked abruptly.