“Mr. Webster,” interrupted May, “do not speak of this. I will never see your aunts again—never! My father is going there to-morrow—do you think I could face him?”
“Pardon my asking you, but how do you know all this?”
“He—he came to-day,” answered May in broken accents; “he took me out—and told me. He—said our secret marriage was known—for we were married—”
“I know you were; Mr. Temple has rendered himself liable by his conduct—”
“To what?” asked May, quickly, as Webster paused.
“To an action for bigamy—”
“No!” said May, sharply and quickly, and for the first time she raised her bowed head. “I will do nothing against him; I will say nothing against him—I will disappear—and you must keep my secret.”
“I will do anything for you. Will you trust me?” answered Webster, earnestly. “I know at the present time you are overwhelmed with the suddenness of the blow, and no one can wonder at it. But how did you come to be out here alone?”
“He—Mr. Temple,” faltered May, “left me for a little time, he supposed, and went to your aunts. He—he did not wish me to leave him; he did not know I never meant to see him again.”
“And then you went out?”