Trust me, and I will be gentle as a tender woman; deceive me, and I will never forgive you." Both fair faces had grown pale--Beatrice's from sudden and deadly fear; Lillian's from strong emotion.
"The men of our race," said Lord Earle, "have erred at times, the women never.

You belong to a long line of noble, pure, and high-bred woman; there must be nothing in your lives less high, and less noble than in theirs; but if there had been--if, from want of vigilance, of training, and of caution there should be anything in this short past, tell it to me now, and I will forget it." Neither spoke to him one word, and a strange pathos came into his voice.
"I committed one act of deceit in my life," continued Lord Earle; "it drove me from home, and it made me an exile during the best years of my life.

It matters little what it was--you will never know; but it has made me merciless to all deceit.

I will never spare it; it has made me harsh and bitter.

You will both find in me the truest, the best of friends; if in everything you are straightforward and honorable; but, children, dearly as I love you, I will never pardon a lie or an act of deceit." "I never told a lie in my life," said Lillian, proudly.