"I meant that that marriage was simply a farce, in spite of the sacrilegious attempt of your enemies to legalize it," said the young lawyer, gravely.
"Can that be possible?" sighed Edith, her voice tremulous with joy.
"I will prove it to you. You have told me that this man Correlli lived with that Italian woman here in New York for two years or more."
"Yes."
"Do you know whether he allowed her to be known by his name?"
"No; but she told me that he allowed her to appear as his wife in the house where they lived."
"Well, then, if that can be proven—and I have not much doubt about the matter—the girl, by the laws of New York, which decree that if a couple live together in this State as husband and wife, they are such—this girl, I say, is the legal wife of Emil Correlli, consequently he can lay no claim to you without making himself liable to prosecution for the crime of bigamy."
"Are you sure?" breathed Edith, and almost faint from joy, in view of this blessed release from a fate which to her would have been worse than death.
"So sure, dear, that I have nothing to fear for your future, regarding your connection with this man, and everything to hope for regarding your happiness and mine, if you will but tell me that you love me," her lover returned, as he boldly captured the hand that lay alluringly near him.
She did not withdraw it from his clasp.