“If only you would let me explain everything, you would take my part against this wretch,” Fair faltered, with some faint hope of pity; but Mrs. Howard shook her head.
“I heard you explain it all to Bayard last night—heard Prince Gonzaga go over the whole ground again to-day, and I wish to hear no more on the subject. Your duplicity and deceit have planted in my trusting heart a thorn that will never cease to rankle,” she answered bitterly.
Fair’s face went ghastly white, and her big, reproachful eyes made Mrs. Howard feel uneasy, so she said jeeringly, to throw off the pity that threatened to overcome her ideas of justice:
“Confess, now, that you are glad your husband is rich and titled. You are the Princess Gonzaga. Did you think of that? It is a proud title, and will make you equally honored and envied.”
But a moan of the bitterest pain came from Fair’s poor, blanched lips.
“Oh, madam, never call me by that name again!” she cried imploringly. “I hate that man. I despise him and fear him. If he were a king, I would not share his throne!”
“You are his wife, and you will be compelled to share his lot. I warn you that he is desperate. Make up with him, and he will adore you. Deny him, and I do not believe he would hesitate to kill you,” said Mrs. Howard; but the obstinate creature only answered, as before:
“I would rather have his hate than his love.”
And suddenly lifting her anguished eyes, she exclaimed:
“Do you not know that I love Bayard Lorraine with my whole heart?”