"From your mother?" asked Dinah rather nervously.
"From my father. He is now settled comfortably in Wales, and likes everything immensely, and----"
"Oh, come away," interrupted Dinah, tugging him by the hand; "don't give me the gist of the letter here. Can't you see that Beatrice and Vivian are dying to be alone? And I want to consult you again about that study of ours. I really don't think that green hangings will suit your complexion, and then--" Here Dinah dragged the willing Jerry down the shallow steps and across the lawn, babbling all the time of their future home.
Beatrice, left alone with Vivian, put out her hand, and heaved a sigh of pleasure when she felt his warm fingers close on that frail member. A thrill ran through her, and everything she beheld before her seemed to take on a brighter hue, because the man she loved was beside her. Yet as she felt his touch and looked into his bright face--for bright it seemed, though sadly worn and thin--a recollection of the barrier between them disturbed her pleasant thoughts.
"Why do you wish to take your hand away?" asked Vivian, as he felt her exert a weak strength.
"Your--your--wife," faltered Beatrice faintly.
"You are to be my wife, dearest," he answered gravely. "No," in reply to her startled look, "Maud is not dead. But she never was my wife."
"Vivian! She said that she was."
"Of course, to gain her own ends. But she is really the wife of Major Ruck: she married him when she first went to town. I believe old Alpenny arranged the marriage, as Major Ruck being a member of his Gang, he wished to secure so clever a woman as Maud also."
"Is this true?"