“Yes, madam.”
“And,” pursued Daisie gaspingly, her face death-white, “perhaps—perhaps—you didn’t elope with Mr. Bain—after all. It—it—was a lie you wrote to Cullen, was it not?”
“Come away, Daisie,” pleaded Annette; but she shook off the gentle hand impatiently.
“Answer me,” she said imploringly, to Letty, a wild hope springing in her tortured heart. “Did you go away with—him—or not?”
The girl hung her head in shame, and muttered defiantly:
“Yes, madam, I did elope with Mr. Bain. I can’t deny the truth.”
But falsehood was written on her face and in her eyes that she dare not uplift to the girl she had wronged.
Daisie cried bitterly:
“Then where is he now? Why are you with Cullen instead of——” Her voice broke with emotion, and the crafty Letty rejoined meekly:
“Oh, Mrs. Sherwood, can’t you understand? He—that Dallas Bain, was a—betrayer of innocence! After he persuaded me to go away he wouldn’t marry me. He got tired of me in a month, and then he disappeared, the wretch! Then I was starving—I tried to find him, but I could not, and I was going to drown myself when I chanced to meet Cullen, who had come to the city to look for me—to kill me, as he said. But my misery melted his heart. He forgave me, and agreed to make an honest woman of me if I would behave myself. So I married him, the good, kind soul, and—oh, there he is waiting for me now. Excuse me, ladies;” and Letty darted away to join her husband, who had sneaked back to the corner.