"And I simply told you the truth," he retorted. "She was nothing to me at that time; she was 'only my sister's companion.' However," he added, straightening himself haughtily, "there is no use in wrangling over the matter any further. I married Edith Allen the night before last, and henceforth she will be the mistress of my home. I confess it is a trifle hard on you, Giulia," he continued, speaking in a conciliatory tone, "but you must try to be sensible about it. I will settle a comfortable annuity upon you, and you can either go back to your parents or make a pleasant home for yourself somewhere in this country."
"And what of this boy?" questioned the discarded girl, laying her trembling hand upon the head of her child, who was looking from one to the other, a wondering expression on his young face.
Emil Correlli's lips twitched spasmodically for a moment. He would never have confessed it to a human being, but the little one was the dearest object the world held for him.
"I will provide handsomely for his future," he said, after considering for a minute. "If you will give him up to me he shall be reared as carefully as any gentleman's son, and, when he attains a proper age, I will establish him in some business or profession that will enable him to make his mark in the world."
"You would take him away from me to do this?" Giulia exclaimed, as she passionately caught her darling to her breast.
"That would be necessary, in order to carry out my purpose as I wish," the man coldly replied.
"Never! You are a monster in human form to suggest such a thing. Do you think I would ever give him up to you?"
"Just as you choose," her companion remarked, indifferently. "I have made you the proposition, and you can accept or reject it as you see fit, but if I take him, I cannot have his future hampered by any environments or associations that would be likely to mar his life."
"Coward!" the word was thrown at him in a way that stung him like a lash, "do you dare twit me for what you alone are to blame? Where is your honor—where your humanity? Have you forgotten how you used every art to persuade me to leave the shelter of my pleasant home—the protection of my honest father and mother, to come hither with you? how you promised, by all that was sacred, to make me your wife if I would do your bidding? What I am you have made me—what this child is, you are responsible for. Ah, Emil Correlli, you have much to answer for, and the day will yet come when you will bitterly repent these irreparable wrongs—"
"Come, come Giulia! you are getting beside yourself with your tragic airs," her companion here interposed, in a would-be soothing tone. "There is no use working yourself up into a passion and running on like this. What has been done is done, and cannot be changed, so you had best make the most of what is left you. As I said before, I will give you a handsome allowance, and, if you will keep me posted regarding your whereabouts, I will make you and the boy a little visit now and then."