The story of the trouble between Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth was soon public property. Wickersham's plans appeared to him to be working out satisfactorily. Louise Wentworth must, he felt, care for him to sacrifice so much for him. In this assumption he let down the barriers of prudence which he had hitherto kept up, and, one evening when the opportunity offered, he openly declared himself. To his chagrin and amazement, she appeared to be shocked and even to resent it.
Yes, she liked him--liked him better than almost any one, she admitted; but she did not, she could not, love him. She was married.
Wickersham ridiculed the idea.
Married! Well, what difference did that make? Did not many married women love other men than their husbands? Had not her husband gone after another?
Her eyes closed suddenly; then her eyelids fluttered.
"Yes; but I am not like that. I have children." She spoke slowly.
"Nonsense," cried Wickersham. "Of course, we love each other and belong to each other. Send the children to your husband."
Mrs. Wentworth recoiled in horror. There was that in his manner and look which astounded her. "Abandon her children?" How could she? Her whole manner changed. "You have misunderstood me."
