Now, and
here, there was no hypocrisy; but some time, somewhere, on the
part of somebody, what hypocrisy, what lies must have been acted,
if not absolutely spoken, before Ruth could have been received by
them all as the sweet, gentle, girlish widow, which she
remembered they had all believed Mrs. Denbigh to be when first
she came among them! Could Mr. and Miss Benson know? Could they
be a party to the deceit? Not sufficiently acquainted with the
world to understand how strong had been the temptation to play
the part they did, if they wished to give Ruth a chance, Jemima
could not believe them guilty of such deceit as the knowledge of
Mrs. Denbigh's previous conduct would imply; and yet how it
darkened the latter into a treacherous hypocrite, with a black
secret shut up in her soul for years--living in apparent
confidence, and daily household familiarity with the Bensons for
years, yet never telling the remorse that ought to be corroding
her heart! Who was true? Who was not? Who was good and pure? Who
was not? The very foundations of Jemima's belief in her mind were
shaken.
Could it be false? Could there be two Ruth Hiltons? She went over
every morsel of evidence. It could not be. She knew that Mrs.
Denbigh's former name had been Hilton. She had heard her speak
casually, but charily, of having lived in Fordham. She knew she
had been in Wales but a short time before she made her appearance
in Eccleston.
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