Again Laure paused a little and then said, slowly, “I MEANT TO DO IT.” Lydgate, strong man as he was, turned pale and trembled: moments seemed to pass before he rose and stood at a distance from her. “There was a secret, then,” he said at last, even vehemently. “He was brutal to you: you hated him.” “No! he wearied me; he was too fond: he would live in Paris, and not in my country; that was not agreeable to me.” “Great God!” said Lydgate, in a groan of horror. “And you planned to murder him?” “I did not plan: it came to me in the play — I MEANT TO DO IT.”
