“That is a sin,” reproved the good woman; but Fair answered:
“If it be a sin, it is one of which I never can repent so long as I live, and I will be no man’s wife but Bayard Lorraine’s.”
“You are already another man’s wife,” severely.
“In name only,” Fair answered, in dreary exultation.
“And as for Bayard Lorraine, he would consider your words of just now an insult,” continued Mrs. Howard coldly, and she added, after a moment: “If he ever knows anything again—which is doubtful, as he has lain in a deadly stupor since last night—I feel sure that he will advocate the justice of Prince Gonzaga’s claim, and insist that you return to your husband.”
“You really believe this?” Fair cried wildly, with dilated eyes.
“Yes.”
“And you, too—you take the part of this cruel prince against me?”
“Yes; for you have wronged him bitterly from the first, and you should crave his pardon and try to atone to him for your unkindness in the past,” said Mrs. Howard decisively, for Fair’s declaration of love for Bayard Lorraine had alarmed her, and she saw in it a new element of danger for all, so she advocated the prince’s cause most zealously.
But Fair only refused, in despairing defiance, to see or hold any communication with her husband.