“You will not require a divorce,” he replied.
“That is just, in effect, what you said before. Why will I not require a divorce? The man is not dead, nor going to die! He will not commit suicide. No, indeed, trust him for that! He is too great a coward! And he is in no danger of being hanged. How, then, should you say that I will not require a divorce, since death is not likely to relieve me of my felon husband—ugh!” she exclaimed in strong disgust.
“My dear, the man has never been your husband,” he said slowly and distinctly.
“What?” she cried, aghast.
“The man has never been your husband!” he repeated firmly and solemnly.
“You are mad! We are all mad together, I think! What—under—heaven—do you mean?” she cried, staring at him with starting eyes.
“This man, under his true name of Kightly Montgomery, married Jennie Campbell, the daughter of the curate of Medge, in Hantz, more than two years before he ever saw your face. His wife is living now. She is in the drawing-room across the hall. My wife Julia here knows all about this first marriage.”
While John Legg spoke his daughter stared as if her eyes would have started from out their sockets. Then suddenly she sprang up and rushed across the room to the side where her brother sat with one leg crossed over the other, his head thrown back, and his hands clasped above it, his face wearing a cynical expression.
She paused before him, her eyes flaming.
“Cassius!” she said in a voice half choked with raging hatred and longing revenge. “Cassius, do you hear what papa has said? Do you hear that your sister has been deceived, betrayed by the basest of dastards and criminals! Cassius, kill that man! kill him! kill him! kill him!”