And still her thoughts reverted to the great relief that she felt in the fact that he could no longer persecute Odalite. The proof of his former marriage in the substantial presence of his living wife forbade that.
This latter suggested another question:
What under heaven could have caused Angus Anglesea—certainly a gentleman by birth and position; certainly a man of cultivated mind, fastidious tastes and of refined manners, except when evil passions got the mastery and turned him, for the time, into a ruffian—what could have induced such a man to marry such a woman as she who claimed to be his wife?
In the midst of these speculations, the door opened silently, and Abel Force entered the room on tiptoes, and silently signaled his wife to come and speak to him.
She arose and went to meet him.
“How is Odalite?”
“She is sound asleep—so sound that you need not fear to wake her,” replied the lady.
“But, is that sleep well? She was very lethargic in the church, I noticed. Had I not better send for a physician?”
“No, no, certainly not. Her sleep is well. It is the effect of an opiate I gave her. The best treatment under the circumstances. Do not feel the least anxious as to present or future consequences of this day’s events. Believe me, our child will never break her heart for the loss of that unmasked villain.”
“And yet he was a friend of yours, Elfrida?”