“I forgot to mention that he had gone to seek her. He was enraged at her flight, and swore he would find her again, although she wrote him——” She stopped suddenly, as if she had said too much.
“She wrote him—what?” asked Bayard sharply, and, knowing that there could be no evasion now, she repeated the words Fair had written to Prince Gonzaga. In his wrath, he had shown her the note, and the words had burned themselves indelibly on her memory.
A bitter groan burst from his tortured heart, and he exclaimed:
“I do not know how to forgive you for your hardness to that persecuted child. Yes, I feel subtly that she was in some way wronged, and that her follies were not all of her own seeking.”
She shook her head incredulously, but he continued vehemently:
“That wretch may not have found her, and driven her to self-destruction. As soon as I can, I will begin a search for her, and if I can persuade some noble woman to stand her friend the law shall free her from her hated fetters.”
She stared at him, aghast.
“You mean you will try to get a divorce for her?” she cried out, in surprise.
“Yes,” he replied, without shrinking from her disapproving gaze.
“And then?” she queried meaningly.