"Yes, and such a husband as you have been," she said sarcastically.
He stepped forward, with an oath, to strike her, then restraining himself by an effort, said in a harsh voice,--
"Tell me his name."
Mrs. Malton walked over to a writing-desk, unlocked it, and taking from thence a bundle of letters, flung them on the floor before him.
"You'll find all about him there."
Malton bent down, picked up the letters, and staggered back, with a cry, as he recognised the writing.
"My God! Fenton!" he cried.
"Exactly," she said coolly. "Your dear friend Fenton, who came to me with words of love on his lips, and lies in his heart, to get me to elope with him--in the last letter, you see, he asked me to go with him to Valparaiso."
"Oh, did he?" muttered Malton vindictively; "and you were going, I suppose?"
"If I had been going," she replied, with grave scorn, "I would not now be here, for he leaves for Valparaiso to-night."