"Part, Norman!" she cried. "We cannot part now; I am your wife!"
"I know it; but we must part."
"Part!" repeated the girl. "We cannot; the tie that binds us cannot be sundered so easily."
"My poor Madaline, it must be."
She caught his hand in hers.
"You are jesting, Norman. We cannot be separated--we are one. Do you forget the words--'for better for worse,' 'till death us do part?'--You frighten me!" And she shrank from him with a terrible shudder.
"It must be as I have said," declared the unhappy man. "I have been deceived--so have you. We have to suffer for another's sin."
"We may suffer," she said, dully, "but we cannot part. You cannot send me away from you."
"I must," he persisted. "Darling, I speak with deepest love and pity, yet with unwavering firmness. You cannot think that, with that terrible stain resting on you, you can take your place here."
"But I am your wife!" she cried, in wild terror.