“Then why did she marry him?” said I.
“For his money,” was the reply.
“Then that was another crime, and her solemn promise to love and honour him was another, that only increased the enormity of the last.”
“You are too severe upon the poor lady,” laughed he. “But never mind, Helen, I don’t care for her now; and I never loved any of them half as much as I do you, so you needn’t fear to be forsaken like them.”
“If you had told me these things before, Arthur, I never should have given you the chance.”
“Wouldn’t you, my darling?”
“Most certainly not!”
He laughed incredulously.
“I wish I could convince you of it now!” cried I, starting up from beside him: and for the first time in my life, and I hope the last, I wished I had not married him.
“Helen,” said he, more gravely, “do you know that if I believed you now I should be very angry? but thank heaven I don’t. Though you stand there with your white face and flashing eyes, looking at me like a very tigress, I know the heart within you perhaps a trifle better than you know it yourself.”