"Twenty years ago," he said, coldly, "the law gave me my freedom from you, and I thought never to see you again. Like a thief you have entered my house during my absence. You have dared to contaminate with your presence my child--yes, my child, not yours. She ceased to be yours when you forsook her. How you obtained this entrance I will make it my business to find out; but now that I know that Mrs. Belswin is my divorced wife, I order her to leave my house at once. Go!"
She uttered a piteous cry, and stretched out her hands towards him in an agony of despair.
"No, no! you cannot be so cruel."
"I am not cruel. By your own act you forfeited your right to remain under my roof."
"But my child."
"Your child! Ah, you remember her now, after deserting her for twenty years! Do you think I will permit you to contaminate her young life by your presence? Do you think that I can see you day after day and not remember what you were, and see what you are?"
His wife cowered before his vehemence, and, covering her face with her hands, shrank against the wall.
"Rupert!" she said, in a low pleading voice, "do not be so harsh with me. If I have sinned I have suffered for my sin. For twenty years I have longed for a sight of my child, but until now I dared not see her. Chance sent you away and gave me an opportunity of living with her as a companion. She does not know who I am. She will never know who I am, and as her paid companion she loves me! Let me stay beside her and have some happiness in my wretched life."
"No; I will not! I wonder you dare ask me."
"I dare anything for my child."