"It would have been impossible unless you had helped me to it.
You have taught me yourself, even more than I have studied you." Sophie started, and a look of terror, bewilderment, and passionate repudiation, lightened in her eyes.

How dared he--how could he, say that?
how so falsely misrepresent her actions, and misinterpret her purposes?
Her mind went staggering back over the past, seeking for means of self-justification and defense.

She had only meant to benefit him--to amplify and soften his character--to inspire him with more ideal views and aims; and to do this she had--what?
Sophie paused, and shuddered.
Could it, after all, be true?
Had she, forgetful of maidenly modesty and reserve, opened to this man's eyes her secret soul?
invited him into the privacy of her heart, to criticise and handle it ?--invited him!--brought forward, and pressed upon his notice, the thoughts and impulses which she should scarcely have whispered even to herself?
Had she done this?
"You have taught me that there is no one like you in the world," said Bressant.

His voice sounded strangely to her, coming across such an abyss of shame, remorse, and dismay.

Did he know the bitter satire his words conveyed?
Sophie's face was hidden in her hands.