"She was, most certainly," he assented, watching her.
"But what has that to do with you and your plot?" she demanded, raising herself after a moment and facing him contemptuously. "This—this marriage is a matter between me and Blair. This certificate is not a forgery—I believe that."
He looked at her steadily.
"Thanks. You do me that credit, and safely. Of one thing you may be convinced, Violet, and that is, that I will not speak one false word to you to-night. By truth, and truth alone, I will win you. Do not doubt any one thing I tell you, for I swear that it is true!"
"I—I believe you," she said, almost involuntarily. "I believe this marriage took place, but what of it? The girl is dead. I am Blair's wife, and the offer"—she shuddered again—"the vile offer you made he will protect me from."
"Blair is not your husband, for Margaret Hale, the Countess of Ferrers, is alive!" he said.
He did not thunder it at her, nor hiss it as the serpent he resembled might have done; but he spoke the words almost gently and with a serene and complacent calmness.
She sprung to her feet and confronted him.
"What? Stop——" and her hands went out toward him as if to shut from her senses any further words of his.