“How do you know this, Claire? Has Louis written to you?”
“No. He is here.”
“Here! In Saltinville?”
“Yes, here in Saltinville. He would have been at this house, only I prevailed upon him to stay till I had seen you—to prepare you.”
“Oh, Claire! Does he know I am married?”
“No; he believes you have been as faithful to him as he to you.”
“Oh!”
It was a wild cry; and a look of frightened horror came over the pretty baby face, as its owner caught Claire round the waist, and clung to her.
“Claire, Claire!” she cried. “Save me! What shall I do? Louis is an Italian, and he is all love and passion and jealousy. I dare not see him. He would kill me, if he knew. What shall I do? What can I do? Oh, this is terrible, Claire!” she cried. “Claire!” and she shook her sister passionately. “Why don’t you speak? What shall I do?”
Claire remained silent.