“Oh,” she moaned, in a faint, almost dying voice. “I knew you would find me out some day, Cecil; for the Lord’s sake forgive me!”
Cecil Laurens looked at his beautiful young wife in amazement. She had grown ghastly pale, even to the lips, and her pallor was startling by contrast with her dark hair and brows, and wild, dilated eyes. He put his hand on hers and found that it was icy cold.
“My darling, my darling; do not look so frightened. I am not an ogre. I am not going to kill you for one little deception!” he exclaimed.
He was afraid she was going to faint, but at those kindly uttered words, the warm color rushed suddenly into her face, and she turned her eyes on him, with an expression little less than adoring.
“Cecil,” she murmured, in an indescribable tone, leaning close to his shoulder, so close that he could feel the convulsive trembling that shook her form.
He was alarmed, and exclaimed, reassuringly:
“Darling, your little deception did not matter much. You kept the secret for your sister’s sake. Remember, I am not blaming you much.”
“Yes, oh, yes, for her sake!” faltered the girl, humbly. “I promised her never to betray it, but I thought—thought you would be ready to kill me when you found me out! And you take it easily as this? Oh, my darling husband, you are an angel!”
“No, my dear, only a very faulty man, but passionately in love with my charming wife,” returned Cecil Laurens, with a wonderful sweetness in his violet eyes. Then drawing a letter from his breast, he added: “But you will want to read John Keith’s letter?”
“John Keith!—was it he who betrayed me?” Molly exclaimed, with sudden anger blazing from her dark eyes.