"Put it on a lower ground. Is it just to me? Do you owe me nothing? I don't forget how much I owe you. You have made the better part of what little reputation I have; you are proud of it; you would like to have me more so. But do you suppose I can feel pride in anything earthly, while another man has the power so to move my wife? You may think you do not love him now; but where you make a parade of forgiveness, resentment lingers; and where revenge is hot, love is still warm."
"Then you knew it all?" gasped Lucy; "but how—how could you ever want to marry me?"
"Because, my dear, I loved you—all the time—too well not to be thankful to get you on any terms. I gave you credit for too much good sense and high principle to let yourself care for him when you were once married; and—I am but a poor creature, God knows! but I hoped I could win your love in time. There, my dear, don't! I knew I could! I am very sure I did."
He raised her head from where she had buried it among the sofa pillows, and let her weep out a flood of the bitterest tears she had ever shed, on his shoulder. It was long before she could check them enough to murmur, "Forgive me—only forgive me!"
"Dearest, we will both of us forget it."
"Mr. Talbot wants to see you, ma'am."
"Is the doctor out?"
"Yes, ma'am. He did not ask for the doctor. He said he wanted to speak to you for a minute."
"Show him into the library, and tell anyone else who calls that I am engaged for a few moments."