“Then it was his turn to look bewildered. ‘Father—son—husband—Maurice!’ he repeated in blank astonishment. ‘My cousin’s name is not Maurice, and has no father living. May I ask pardon if you are married to my——the gentleman I——met you with the other day?’
“‘Certainly,’ I answered; ‘do you think I should be here if I were not?’
“‘Then,’ he said, ‘it is my duty to tell you my cousin has most grossly deceived you. The marriage is not, cannot be, a legal one; for, to my knowledge, his wife is alive at the present moment.’
“After that,” proceeded Bessie, “there is a blank in my memory—I suppose I fainted; it was a fearful blow to receive, but the man who dealt it stayed with me for nearly an hour, and was very kind and thoughtful towards me. He did not call the servants; he made no fuss; he threw a little water on my face, and let me struggle back to consciousness without drawing the attention of any one to my trouble. When I was quite recovered he begged my pardon for the mistake he had made in the first instance, and assured me, I think truly, that, had he guessed for a moment the depth of his cousin’s treachery, he never would have been so abrupt.
“‘But I spoke to him in his own house about you the other day,’ he added, ‘and he bade me mind my own business, and not interfere with his—who you were or what you were, he said, was his concern, and his only. So then I determined that you should not perish eternally for want of a word spoken in time.’
“I let him go on for some minutes—I let him preach to his heart’s content, and then I said:
“‘You have told me his faults—now show me his excuse. He was forced to marry against his will. His wife is old, ugly, ill-tempered. He never loved her; it was a marriage of convenience, which he was compelled into by others.’
“He knew what I was thinking of—he guessed I was seeking an apology to stay with him. He had sense enough to see I would have given life itself to hear his wife was a hideous old shrew. He had not human feeling sufficient to understand my mad jealousy, but he could not help seeing it was not accusations against my husband I wanted to hear. Oh no! it was the defence I was panting for.
“‘He married young,’ was the reply, ‘a lady of equal age, well born, wealthy, beautiful, accomplished, virtuous. They do not live happily, it is true; but she was his own free choice. He was rich and independent enough always to marry whomsoever he pleased.’
“‘And his real name?’ I asked.