Helm looked gravely at her. He said slowly:
“You are their cousin. You are Senator Clearwater’s daughter. But you are my wife—you are our son’s mother.”
She was deathly pale, and her eyes looked her terror, as she said breathlessly:
“My father! Oh, George, you can’t!”
“Yes,” said Helm gently. “I can—and I must—and, Ellen, I will.”
“You asking me to choose between you and my father!” exclaimed she.
“No, Ellen,” replied he. “I am your husband. There can’t be any choice between me and any one else on earth.”
They gazed at each other, he as white as she. But she was trembling, while he stood like a strong tree. She said:
“Yes—I am yours, George. But—you will give me a wound I’ll never recover from.”
He said: “It will give us a wound that’ll never heal. But—we’ll suffer together, my love, as we have been happy together.”