‘I am sure I have tried to do my duty,’ she said. ‘I have tried to make your home pleasant to you—and to improve your position in society.’
‘Yes,’ answered the husband, with an uncontrollable gust of passion. ‘You have made me acquainted with Captain Standish.’
Bella’s quiet weeping changed to hysterical sobbing. Her whole frame was shaken.
‘Yes,’ pursued Mr. Piper. ‘You have tried very hard to improve my position in society. You have held me up to scorn and ridicule. You have made me the laughing stock of my old friends, as the fond deluded husband—the middle-aged dupe of a pair of blue eyes and a rosebud mouth. While my first wife lived I was a respectable man. You have made me—what? A door-mat for Captain Standish.’
‘I have done nothing really wicked,’ pleaded Bella. ‘I have been foolish, perhaps. I have let him pay me compliments—and—and—that kind of thing. But I have not broken one of the commandments. I could kneel in church and hear them read without feeling myself a castaway.’
‘Don’t cry,’ said Mr. Piper. ‘There’s no use in talking about it. I have read Captain Standish’s letters to you.’
‘You have broken open my desk,’ cried Bella, in sudden alarm.
‘Yes, I have seen his presents, and read his letters, and I can guess what he thought of you when he wrote them, and what he meant to be the end of your acquaintance.’
‘He asked me to run away with him, and I refused,’ protested Bella.
‘That was the first time,’ said Mr. Piper, coolly. ‘You refused me the first time, you know. The captain meant to ask again, you may be sure.’