"Yes."
When it had been administered, he said, "Stay in the anteroom, Miss Howard may need you.—Pray for me," he added the moment they were alone.
"Yes, I will; but first I want to tell you that your wife, if Mrs. Douglass is indeed your wife, has loved you all these years. She blames herself that she did not insist that her father should tell you of her brother Henreich. I do not think there has been a day these last ten years that she has not prayed for your conversion."
His lip quivered like a grieved child, while great tears rolled down his pale cheeks. In a voice scarcely more than a whisper, he said,—
"Do you think it possible that she will forgive me?"
"She has forgiven you already."
There was a long silence after this. Mr. Lambert's countenance showed that a terrible struggle was going on in his breast. Marion could not look upon it, and covered her face, her cry going up to God for help and comfort to this poor man. At last, recalling his request, she fell on her knees, and in a low tone offered up her petitions in his behalf.
When she rose to her feet, she was startled at the awful pallor which had settled on his features. She put her fingers on his pulse, and to her terror found there was scarcely any beat.
"Go for the doctor as quickly as possible," she cried to the servant. "No, send some one. Don't leave me! He is very low."
Fortunately the physician was near at hand and was soon at the bedside. In a few words Marion related the wonderful story, that she had just made the discovery that Mrs. Douglass was Mr. Lambert's wife, which accounted for his alarming state of exhaustion.