The man turned upon his pillow and tried to avoid the sight of Bessie’s face, but she leaned over the bed, and looking straight into his eyes, she said: “Don’t you think I am as beautiful as I was in those days—the days that you loved me so, and called me your darling Bessie? You remember, don’t you? It was long, long ago; long before my baby died.”
“Oh, Bessie, keep still.”
“No, I won’t; I’m going to tell you all about it.”
“Then I shall leave you.”
“Ha! ha!” laughed Bessie, “you see you can’t do that. You left me once, but you can’t get up now, and the ghosts are coming by and by to hold you down and then they will grin and nod their heads while I tell you all about a woman betrayed.”
“Bessie, come with me,” said Blanche.
“Miss Robin, keep still. I will not go.”
“Take her away,” said the wounded man impatiently.
“Let her remain,” said Ross, in a hard, cold voice. “The time has come for your coward heart to bow to the will of a weak woman. I would not take advantage of you in your helpless state, but Bessie has the right, if she but had the power to tear your heart from your body.”