“And—Fair?”
His voice faltered over the familiar name. She averted her eyes, that she might not see his emotion, and answered gently:
“She is gone, too.”
He sighed faintly, and asked:
“How long?”
“Three weeks. Ever since the day after you were wounded.”
He could not ask another question. She had gone with her husband, of course. What did she care if she left him dying—him, whom she had confessed to love! Pshaw! It had been nothing but clever acting. She wished to marry a rich man, that was all, and as things had turned out she was best suited perhaps to have a title added to the wealth. Princess Gonzaga! It had a lofty sound. What a rise it was for the poor sewing girl!
Mrs. Howard read what was passing in his mind, and said:
“Prince Gonzaga is gone, too.”
“Of course!” he answered, with a sneer he could not repress, and again she read his bitter thought, and answered it: