"That is all right," he answered, in a cold and formal voice. "I will see to my wife now, Mari; and we need trouble you no longer."
Mari was conscious in every fibre of her being of the change in his manner. She flushed visibly, but showed no intention of giving up her post beside Gwladys.
"I have promised Gwladys not to leave her to-day; so have patience with me, Hugh, and leave me here. Your breakfast is waiting."
It was in his heart to thank her for all her tenderness and affection for his unhappy wife; but he hesitated, struggling with his new-born anger, and, saying something about his breakfast, left the room awkwardly; and Mari was once more left to keep watch by the sleeping girl-wife. Downstairs in the living-room she had carefully arranged Hugh's breakfast, and after partaking of it silently, he once more entered his wife's room. She was now awake, and when he appeared stretched both hands to meet him.
"Hugh bâch!" she said, "come and sit by me. Wilt go out for a bit, Mari lass? or stay if thee lik'st, for I have no secrets from thee."
But Mari, having first stooped down to kiss her, slipped out of the room, and Hugh took the chair which she had vacated.
Gwladys' breath came in short gasps, her nervousness was painful to witness, and Hugh was smitten with a deep pity for the girl whose happiness he considered his mistaken passion had wrecked.
"I want to tell you——" she began, with dry lips and fluttering breath.
"Thou shalt tell me nothing, child! I know it all. Thou hast never loved me—thou hast never loved me since we were wedded! I have wronged thee, Gwladys; I might have known a young girl of thine age could not love a middle-aged man like me! But thou hast wronged me, too—thou shouldst have told me this that night when I went to thy mother to ask her for thee! But not a word from anyone! no one thought it worth while to stop me when they saw me rushing to destruction like a blind horse who gallops madly over the cliffs. 'Twas cruel! and I think I would have stretched out my hand to save the unhappy creature; but apparently Hugh Morgan has no friends—not even Mari Vone called me back! Well, Gwladys merch i, we have both made a mistake. Now our eyes are open, and we can only walk together to the end of our lives side by side, each one trying to lighten the sorrow of the other. God only knows how it is going to be, Gwladys fâch; but that is the path for us—it will be a dry and dusty one for us both. May it lead to the golden gates of the West at sunset!"
Gwladys, with her face hidden in the pillow, was sobbing bitterly. Hugh let her cry for a while, and then, drawing his hand tenderly over the brown curls, asked, in a voice of much emotion: