"And you are sure no one was to blame?" she persisted and after a moment's hesitation he replied:
"Perhaps Vince was to blame; but he did not realize it then, poor fellow! You see, Kathleen, he worshipped his lovely little bride, and it grieved him that she was lacking in certain accomplishments familiar to most young girls in his cultured set. To remedy this, he employed teachers and Zaidee learned rapidly until——" he passed the back of his hand across his eyes and groaned.
"Until——" repeated Kathleen.
"Quite unexpected by him—for she was probably too proud to betray herself to him—Zaidee became quite jealous of that pretty young widow, Mrs. Belmont, and in a fit of madness took her own life, and nearly broke her husband's heart."
"He married the young widow in a little more than a year," the girl replied, unable to resist this bitter fling at her dead father's memory.
He winced, the poor old man, as she spoke thus of her father, and answered, almost excusingly:
"He was so wretched, and Mrs. Belmont comforted him. She, too, had loved Zaidee, and shared his grief with him. That was how she made herself so necessary to the unhappy man."
"The fiend!" broke hissingly from Kathleen's white lips.
He turned to her in amazement.
"What do you mean?" he asked, hoarsely.