He put the note in an envelope, sealed it carefully, and addressed it—"To Elizabeth."
These were necessary precautions. The man who had twice wronged him possessed the fierce courage of a bravo. If Elizabeth was found with him, death might come to one of them—even if that followed, the woman who had been his wife should never share the degrading future of a man too vile for personal vengeance. In mercy to her he would separate them.
He found Elsie sitting up in bed. She shrank away among the pillows when he entered; he saw the movement, and it shook his heart with a new pang. This artful woman had drawn the spell of her fascinations as closely about that pure girl as she had enthralled him. Elsie shrank from the brother who had deprived her of the love on which she had leaned. Elizabeth had left him nothing but bitterness.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked, sitting down by the bed.
"Oh, I never shall be any better," she murmured; "I shall die, and then, perhaps, you will be sorry."
Mellen could not be angry with her; it wounded and stung him to hear her speak thus, but he answered, patiently:
"When you are able to reflect, Elsie, you will see that I could not have acted differently. Few men would have shown as much leniency as I have done; regardless of the consequences to themselves, they would have made that woman's conduct public, and ruined her utterly."
"She wasn't bad," cried Elsie; "you are crazy to think so. She was the best woman in the world."
"Have you forgotten what I told you this morning—what I was forced to tell you or submit to your hatred? From yon window you could look out on the spot where she had buried——"
"Be still!" interrupted Elsie, with a shriek. "I won't stay in the house if you go on so—be still, I say!"