“Then why did you marry me? For my position and prospects?”
“Yes, to some extent; also, I respected and admired you, and Lord Devene forced me to it, I don’t know why.”
Again that slight shiver went through Rupert’s frame, and he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Evidently she did not know the facts, and why should he tell her of her own disgrace; he who had no wish for vengeance?
“Thank you for being so plain with me,” he said heavily. “I am glad that you have told me the truth, as I wish you well, and it may save you some future misery, that of being the wife of a man whom you find hideous and whom you never loved. Only, for your own sake, Edith, think a minute; it is your last chance. Things change in this world, don’t they? I have found that out. Well, they might change again, and then you might be sorry. Also, your position as the wife of a man who is only supposed to be dead will, in fact, be a false one, since at some future time he might be found to be alive.”
“I have thought,” she answered. “I must take the risks. You will not betray me, Rupert.”
“No,” he answered, in tones of awful and withering contempt. “I shall not follow your example, I shall not betray you. Take what little is mine, by inheritance or otherwise; it will prove to the world that I am really dead. But henceforth, Edith, I hate you, not with a hate that desires revenge, for I remember that we are still man and wife, and I will never lift a finger to harm you any more than I will break the bond that is and must remain until the death of one of us. Still, I tell you that all my nature and my spirit rise up against you. Did you swear to me that you loved me as much as once you said you did, I would not touch your beauty with my finger-tips, and never will I willingly speak to you again in this world or the next. Go your own way, Edith, as I go mine,” and heaving himself out of the low chair, Rupert lifted his crutch from the ground, and leaning on it heavily, limped from the room.
As he fumbled at the door-handle, Edith rose from her knees, where she had remained all this time, and running after him, cried:
“Rupert!”
He took no heed, the veil of separation had fallen between them, a wall of silence had been built; she might as well have spoken to the air.
She saw him lift the carpet-bag from the butler’s tray, then down the stairs went that single, heavy footfall, and the clumping of the crutch. The front door opened and closed again. It was done.