“Darling, what does it matter now? The truth could no longer be hidden. And your poor friend in writing to tell me that he was about to throw up his situation and go south, gave as a reason for it that dastardly divorce!”
“Divorce!”
“Yes, dear, but read it and see for yourself!”
“I—I can’t. The carriage goes too fast, and it makes my head dizzy. Tell me, please,” Molly said, with white lips and startled eyes.
Cecil replaced the letter in his pocket, and said, excitedly:
“John Keith told me what you knew already—that your sister Molly Trueheart had been his wife by a secret marriage almost two years, and he added what I suspected, that she was a mercenary, calculating woman. She refused to live with him even after I had placed him in a situation where he could support her in comfort. Do not look so shocked, Louise, darling, for I have more to tell you. She, his unworthy wife, went away secretly from her old home, and while in close hiding, secured a divorce from her unlucky husband on a plausible plea of desertion and non-support. Louise, Louise!”
The last words were uttered in a tone of alarm, for his wife had quietly fainted away.
Fortunately, they were almost home, for they were staying just then at The Acacias, a pretty, villa-like residence occupied by Cecil’s parents.
“Drive faster!” Cecil thundered to the coachman, and held Molly’s limp form tightly against his heart, little dreaming that this was a parting embrace.
In a minute they paused in front of The Acacias, and Cecil got out of the carriage and went through the gate with his wife in his arms.