"Good God, Blanche! what is this?" he exclaimed, as the half lifeless woman threw herself speechless into his arms.
It was a long time before she could speak; and even then, in such incoherent sentences that it was with difficulty Heath understood what she meant to tell him; but he found that it was something terrible, and about Cecil; and he redoubled his attention, trying to piece together into a coherent narrative, the broken utterances of this wretched wife.
At last he understood her, and tears of deep compassion stood in his eyes as he said,—
"Cheer up, dear Blanche, cheer up! It is not so bad after all. You terrified me at first. He has only drawn on me in anticipation. You know I still owe him money for the picture,—he has paid himself,—he was doubtless close pressed."
"But," she sobbed, "he has forged."
"He has been irregular, that is all; he should have warned me of it. However, now you have told me, it is all safe. Quiet yourself."
"Oh, that I should have lived for this!"
"Courage, courage."
"Dishonoured! My Cecil dishonoured!"
"Not yet, Blanche. He has been imprudent, that is all—imprudent."