"You are very kind to come and see me so soon, dear Odette; but how feverish you are. Are you sick?"
"I am not well, Germaine. I am suffering beyond expression. Do not ask me any questions, I can not answer them; but I come to you for help. I am being carried away by a raging torrent, and I cling to you for safety!"
Germaine was dumb with astonishment and consternation, then suddenly she comprehended, and as Odette stopped, she said, "Oh, unhappy soul! You do not love your husband!"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Odette, terrified at her sister's keenness. "You are mistaken, I do love him."
"But not as you ought to love him," replied Germaine, as excited as Odette, "for then you could not be unhappy. Then you would appreciate your wonderfully happy lot in life, or, if you were in trouble you would appeal to him, not come to me."
Odette came closer to her sister, seized her hands and said slowly: "You are right. I do not love him."
Germaine's eyes flashed with anger. What! his wife! belong to him! so tenderly loved, and no love for him in return! Oh, it was infamous! She groaned in her despair, but suddenly reproached herself that her sympathy was all for Paul. She conquered her anger, and with infinite tenderness said: "Then, dear one, I understand your sufferings; but, hope! dearest Odette. Every one has hours of anguish and despair; but hope, and you will regain your lost love. Depend on me and on God!"
As Germaine repeated her last word, the young wife cried: "You can believe and pray. I can not; I have tried, and found nothing to answer me." She covered her face with her hands, while sobs convulsed her frame from head to foot.
"Weep, dear Odette. I weep with you from the depths of my heart. I do not understand, though. Why did you marry if you did not love him? and, if you loved him, why have you changed so suddenly?"
Odette commenced a true confession, but again her womanly delicacy rebelled. She could not tell her pure and gentle sister the shameful secret of her marriage, and no words could she bring over her lips. At last she said: "Do not leave me alone, Germaine; come back with me to the house to-day. I must return now. Come with me, I beseech you. I will leave a note for my father, so that he will come up to dinner."