"You owe her forgiveness, which is divine," she answers, anxiously.
"I prefer revenge. Do you remember these lines?
"'The sweetest thing upon this earth is love,
And next to love the sweetest thing is hate.'"
She rises and faces him, something of proud scorn in her free and girlish bearing.
"Yes, I remember them, but such sentiments are unworthy of you, Mr. Charteris. What! are you not the brave, noble gentleman I deemed you? Am I to blush for my—husband?"
A subtle thrill, he cannot tell whether it be of pain or pleasure, it is so intense, shoots through him as the low word falls from her lips. A passionate shame, evoked by her proud scorn, tingles through all his frame, yet he says, mockingly:
"So you own the tie that binds us? I thought not, as when I came just now and inquired for Mrs. Charteris I was told there was no such person staying in the hotel. I had to ask for Miss Langton."
"I am traveling as Miss Langton," she explains, simply, yet coloring crimson under his keen, cool gaze.
"May I ask why?" with an unconscious touch of pique in his tone.
"No, you may not ask," with a great deal of dignity in her tone; then, suddenly: "Yet I think you should know I am too sensitive to claim the name you will not accord me of your own free will."