But the idea had taken complete possession of Una.
"Eliot, it maddens me to hear your brother's wife always flinging that slur upon me—a little nobody! Let us force Madame Lorraine to tell the truth to-night. She is in your power, for although her conspiracy against your life failed, she is amenable to the law for the wicked attempt. Let us seek a private interview with her, Eliot. Let us threaten her, frighten her into the confession of my origin, however humble," pleaded Una, with impassioned fervor.
[CHAPTER XXXVIII.]
Mme. Lorraine wormed Una's story out of Mrs. Van Zandt with the greatest ease, Sylvie's spite making it an actual labor of love to place her sister-in-law in the worst possible light before the great actress who had deigned to express admiration for her beauty.
In a little while the wicked woman knew that which thrilled her with cruel joy—that beautiful Una, living in the same house with Eliot and bearing his name, had never been aught to him but his wife in name only.
"He never loved her, and would be glad if he had never seen her," Sylvie said, lying unblushingly in her hatred of Una.
Mme. Lorraine condoled with her in politest phrases, hiding her exultation under an appearance of calmness. She said to herself:
"His wife in name only! It is not so bad as I thought. It will be easy to part them now."