The hollow tones in which these words were uttered were fearfully calm now, and the little hands which he had so often held and kissed were clenched until the nails were purple.
“Yes, Marion,” he said, firmly, and with a cold, merciless glitter in his eyes—he might as well finish this business first as last—“I do mean just what I have said, and it was very imprudent in you to come here to-night; it will subject me to very unpleasant and annoying remarks.”
“I do not understand you,” the white lips uttered, in the same tone as before, though Marion’s blue eyes glittered as he had never seen them, and her small head was lifted in sudden though bitter pride. “I cannot understand how the coming of your wife can subject you to ‘unpleasant and annoying remarks,’” she added, when he did not reply.
“Can you not, when it is not known that I have a wife?” he asked, a little smile that she could not interpret curving his lips.
His coldness and indifference were nearly killing her.
“True! I have forgotten; I am bewildered; I am nearly crazed with my misery. But, George, that fact can be no longer concealed; you must return with me to Richmond and confess our marriage to papa. I must be owned as a lawful wife before another day passes,” she said, wearily, yet with decision.
“Impossible, Marion!”
“And why impossible?” she demanded, with flashing eyes. “Do you understand that the secret cannot be kept any longer—that it must be confessed at once?”
“Nevertheless it is impossible! I—I regret that there should be anything unpleasant about the matter; but I cannot go with you to Mr. Vance and tell him that you are my wife, simply because, Marion, you are not my wife!” he concluded, with a sigh of relief that the truth was at last out.
“George! why will you jest thus when I am so miserable?” shrieked the unhappy girl, throwing up her arms with a gesture of despair.