"Dear, you have said too much and too little. Tell me all now, Cora. It is best that you should, dear."
"Rule! oh, Rule! must I? must I?" she pleaded, wringing her hands.
"Yes, Cora; it is best, dear."
"Oh, I would have borne anything to have spared you this. But—I betrayed myself. Oh, Rule, please try to forget what you have seen and heard. Bear with me for a little while. Give me some little time to get over this, and you shall see how truly I will do my duty—how earnestly I will try to make you happy," she prayed.
"I know, dear—I know you will be a good, dear wife, and a dearly loved and fondly cherished wife. But begin, dear, by giving me your confidence. There can be no real union without confidence between husband and wife, my Cora. Surely, you may trust me, dear," he said, with serious tenderness.
"Yes; I can trust you. I will trust you with all, through all, Rule. You are wise and good. You will forgive me and help me to do right." She spoke so wildly and so excitedly that he laid his hand tenderly, soothingly, on her head, and begged her to be calm and to confide in him without hesitation.
Then she told him all.
What a story for a newly-married husband to hear from his wife on the evening of their wedding day!
He listened in silence, and without moving a muscle of his face or form. When he had heard all he arose from the sofa, stood up, then reeled to an arm chair near at hand and dropped heavily into it, his huge, stalwart frame as weak from sudden faintness as that of an infant.
"Oh, Rule! Rule! your anger is just! It is just!" cried Cora, wringing her hands in despair.