At first she was tempted to deceive him and keep up for his benefit her masterful assumption of innocence. But what was the good? He would soon know her real record, if he did not already know it. Kind friends would soon enlighten him, and then he would despise her the more. A man of such broad experience was not to be hoodwinked so easily. No, it was folly to beat about the bush. At one time she might have seized the happiness he held out to her, but now it was too late.
"What is it?" he persisted. "Do you mean that man Brockton? Is he the obstacle?"
"He is one of them," she answered firmly. She was astonished at her own self-possession, but there was a quiver in her voice as she went on: "My life has been different to what you perhaps think. I am not altogether to blame, although I have no excuses to offer. You understand now?"
She half expected an explosion of wrath, but none came. Instead, he said calmly:
"I know all about your past life. I've known everything from the first: how you went to San Francisco as a kid and got into the show business, and how you went wrong, and then how you married—still a kid—and how your husband didn't treat you exactly right, and then how, in a fit of frenzied drunkenness he came home and shot himself."
The girl leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. A low moan escaped her lips. Madison touched her gently on the shoulder.
"But that's all past now," he went on. "We can forget that. I know how you were up against it, after that; how hard it was for you to get along. Then, finally, how you've lived, and—and that you and that man Brockton have been—well—never mind. I know all this, and still I ask you to marry me. What is past makes no difference. I don't care what you have been but only what you are. If you think you care enough for me to leave this man and begin life anew with me, I'll marry you. I may not be able to give you all the luxuries his money provided, but at least, as my wife, you'll be able to lift your head up in the world. I don't profess to be a saint myself. I'm no better and no worse than the next man, and I'm not unreasonable enough to expect too much in a woman who has had to make her own way in the world—especially on the stage. There's some good in you, yet, Laura; I believe in you. Something tells me that you'll make good if only given half a chance, and that chance I hold out to you now. Break away from this rotten life you've been leading. It can end only in one way. You're young now, and you're beautiful, and it doesn't seem to matter, but some day your youth and beauty will be gone, and what then? Quit now, while there's still time. Be my wife. I'll work hard for you, and, with God's help and you to inspire me, I'll get there!"
She listened in silence. His melodious, earnest voice sounded like sacred music in her ears. It was a glimpse of Heaven that he gave her, a promise of redemption and regeneration, yet her heart told her that it was impossible. If she consented, what would the outcome be? One day, sooner or later, he would regret having married her and would taunt her with her past. They would not be able to take a step in New York but some one would point derisively at her.
"It's impossible," she murmured weakly.
"Why?" he persisted.