“What are you but a murderer? You have benefited by the slaying of helpless people. You were in the country and did not raise a hand to prevent it. I listened to your shameful avowal—and I remembered that you were my husband,” she said dully.
“I think that you cannot have recovered from your illness. Had you not better lie down?” he said quickly.
“But that was not the worst. Not only were you my husband, but you were the father of my child. When the little one comes to years of understanding he will hear of the way that his father made his money—he will bear a name that is tainted,” she cried passionately.
Gaunt’s face had grown very white, and he faced her sternly.
“Mildred, is it not rather late in the day to have these ideas? When I asked you to be my wife, you were aware of my reputation, and you made no objection,” he said coldly.
“I was a blind fool. I had no idea what it really meant, and in those days I do not think I should have greatly cared even if I had known.”
“What has caused this change?”
“I found out a few hours ago—I found out that I loved you.”
Her voice scarcely rose above a whisper, and her eyes were turned away.
“You love me. Thank God!” he cried passionately, and he stretched out his arms.