“You mean that you will not,” he said, and she nodded defiantly.
“Come, Louise,” interposed her husband, “if you know anything that will help to condone the wrong you have done, do not withhold it. You must remember that you are amenable to the law for your sin, although Mr. Laurens will not prosecute you, perhaps, if you will help him find his wronged wife.”
That hint was timely. It frightened the wicked woman, and opened her lips, despite the malice that would have sealed them to the truth.
She grew pale and looked at Cecil Laurens, half pleadingly.
“If I tell you all I know, will you spare me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Very well. Your wife is in England. She had relatives there, and when she left you she went to them. She is living with them still, and your son, born a few weeks after she left you, is a handsome little fellow of four years.”
Cecil Laurens grew pale with emotion, and his mother whispered to Doctor Laurens:
“So, I am a grandmother. I think I shall begin to wear caps.”
Cecil spoke abruptly: