'You are in my power, villain,' cried Disbrowe, 'and shall not escape my vengeance.'
'You are already avenged,' replied Parravicin, shaking off his assailant—'YOUR WIFE HAS THE PLAGUE.'
The profligate had been scared away by the sight of the 'plague spot' on the neck of the unfortunate lady.
The husband entered and found his way to his wife's chamber. Instantaneous explanations ensued. 'He told me you were false—that you loved another—and had abandoned me,' exclaimed the frantic wife.
'He lied!' shouted Disbrowe, in a voice of uncontrollable fury. 'It is true that, in a moment of frenzy, I was tempted to set you—yes, YOU, Margaret—against all I had lost at play, and was compelled to yield up the key of my house to the winner. But I have never been faithless to you—never.'
'Faithless or not,' replied his wife bitterly, 'it is plain you value me less than play, or you would not have acted thus.'
'Reproach me not, Margaret,' replied Disbrowe. 'I would give worlds to undo what I have done.'
'Who shall guard me against the recurrence of such conduct?' said Mrs Disbrowe, coldly. 'But you have not yet informed me how I was saved!'
Disbrowe averted his head.
'What mean you?' she cried, seizing his arm. 'What has happened? Do not keep me in suspense? Were you my preserver?'