"That is sufficient," he said. His eyes turned to Margaret. "Madam, will you forgive me? It was for your sake——" he stopped.
With a sob. Margaret put out her hand to him. He took it, bent over it as if to kiss it, then, as if he could not trust his forced composure another moment, he let it fall and strode away.
Two minutes afterward Blair and Margaret and Lottie were left alone.
What pen could describe the joy which fell upon those two hearts, so long parted by worse than death, but now reunited! Mine shall not attempt it. For a time they stood, her head resting upon his breast, his arm holding her tightly, as if he feared that the next moment he might lose her again. For a time they could only speak in broken, passionate murmurs and it was not until Lottie timidly drew near them that Blair led Margaret to a fallen tree and implored her to tell him how it came to pass that she, whom he had mourned as dead, was now again in his arms.
For an hour they sat, while with many breaks and much faltering, she told the strange story, he listening the while in an amazement that almost overwhelmed his joy. He forgot Lottie, forgot that the city had awakened into its daily life, and above all, he forgot that another woman claimed to be his wife; that, at no great distance, Violet Graham was awaiting him.
It came upon him suddenly, so suddenly that he almost sprung to his feet with a cry of terror and agony.
"Oh, Blair, be calm!" said Margaret, clinging to him, for she thought that he had suddenly realized who it was that had wrecked their lives, though she had cautiously and carefully refrained from mentioning Austin Ambrose. "Be calm, dearest. All our trouble is over now. Let him go. What does it matter? Promise me, Blair—Blair, my love, my husband!"
He groaned, then he started.
"Let him go! Him? Who?"