Maldon's death; but it might have been;
quite possibly it had hastened death.... Louis was not merely a thief;
he was a dastardly thief.
But even that in her eyes did not touch the full height of his
offence. The vilest quality in him was his capacity to seem innocent.
She could recall the exact tone in which he had exclaimed: "Would
you believe that old Batch practically accused me of stealing the
old lady's money?... Don't you think it's a shame?" The recollection
filled her with frigid anger. Her resentment of the long lie which he
had lived in her presence since their betrothal was tremendous in its
calm acrimony. A man who could behave as he had behaved would stop at
nothing, would be capable of all.
She contrasted his conduct with the grim candour of Julian Maldon,
whom she now admired. It was strange and dreadful that both the
cousins should be thieves; the prevalence of thieves in that family
gave her a shudder. But she could not judge Julian Maldon severely.
He did not appear to her as a real thief. He had committed merely an
indiscretion. It was his atonement that made her admire him. Though
she hated confessions, though she had burnt his exasperating document,
she nevertheless liked the manner of his atonement.
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