“‘She is your wife?’
“‘She is. But what of that?’—doggedly.
“‘Only that you belong to her, and not to me.’ Then he caught me in his arms and held me so fast he almost crushed me.
“‘No! no!’ he huskily said, ‘it is false. I do not belong to her. It is you that holds me, body and soul. That woman never married me,—only my money!’
“‘But your children?’
“‘What children?’
“‘Why, yours—and hers.’
“‘There are none!’
“My head swam; she had said, ‘The father of my children,’ and he said. ‘There are none.’ I looked into the clear blue eyes and believed him. But in spite of that I knew my dream of bliss was ended. In his madness he made the proposition that we should leave together,—go to some distant city, to Europe, anywhere where we could remain together. The world was wide and in some small corner we would find room where we might be happy.
“But to this proposition I would not listen. My mind was already made up. I would leave—leave without saying a word about it. I could not bear the thought of being the cause, perhaps, of his ruin. If I told him I knew he would never consent; but this one last night he was mine, and with that shadow threatening to engulf us we loved with the intensity of despair. But before the night had waned, clasped closely in his arms he told me the story which had wrecked his life.”