They came to the pretty shaded room, and the earl, entering first, said:
"Now, my darling, the hour has come which will repay you for the sorrow of years."
Wondering at such words, Lord Arleigh followed his friend. There lay his beautiful wife, lovelier than ever, with the sunlight touching her hair with gold, her fair face transparent as the inner leaf of a rose--Madaline, his darling, who had been his wife in name only.
What did it mean? Why had the earl led him thither? Was it wanton cruelty or kindness? His first impulse was to fall on his knees by the little couch and kiss his wife's hands, his second to ask why he had been led thither to be tortured so. Madaline rose with a glad cry at his entrance, but Lord Mountdean laid a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Lord Arleigh," said the earl, "tell me who this is."
"My wife, Lady Arleigh," he replied.
She bent forward with clasped hands.
"Oh, listen. Norman," she said, "listen."
"You looked upon her as the only woman you ever could love; you made her your wife; yet, believing her to be the daughter of a felon, you separated from her, preferring a life-time of misery to the dishonor of your name. Is it not so, Lord Arleigh?"
"Yes," he replied, "it is indeed so."