‘And if it happened,’ I said, as he finished and was silent, sitting puffing at the pipe that had long since gone out—‘if it happened that the wife was still waiting for you—that she had heard a rumour of your existence, and had come to seek you’——
‘No; don’t talk of that, for any sake!’ he cried, springing to his feet. ‘Wretched and miserable as I have been, I have never wished myself again tied in that hateful knot. There! you would never betray me?’
‘But if she were rich, and able to give you a good home?’
‘Never, never!’ he said. ‘What degradation, what abasement!’
‘To take you out of this den of yours, to clothe you in well-made garments, to bring you again into society?’
‘Never, never! I would hide myself in the remotest corner of the world. Tell me, man, what do you mean? You know something; you are a spy, a traitor!’
Houlot looked here and there as if for a weapon, and I thought it prudent to make quickly for the door.
I went home and told Mrs Collingwood all that had occurred, excepting the horror that M. Houlot had shewn at the idea of returning to her. That I thought it most prudent to suppress. She seemed a little softened, I thought, when I told her his account of his disappearance in the sea, and that his motive was a good one as far as she was concerned.
We sat till late that night talking in the little pavilion, the light from the windows of which was reflected in the dark river. I fancied every now and then I heard a footstep softly pacing up and down the embankment between us and the water’s edge. I certainly thought I had securely locked the garden gate, and never dreamt of our being disturbed. Just as my guest had risen to take her leave, the door suddenly opened, and M. Houlot stood upon the threshold. Mrs Collingwood screamed, and ran to the furthest corner of the room, crouching behind the window curtains. Houlot glared at her for a moment, then slammed to the door and strode away. I ran after him.
‘You have deceived me!’ he said savagely, as, breathless, I overtook him upon the embankment; ‘and I, like a fool, believed you, and pictured her to myself—still loving, still faithful to the memory of a wretched being; and I came to seek you, to know more about this wonderful phenomenon. And now I see it all; she dreads me as if I were a leper! Well, it matters not now; I am away to-morrow. Some kind friends have raised a little money for me; I don’t need your help now. To-morrow before daylight I start on my way to make my claim for that which is mine own. Tell her—tell her that she need not fear me, that I shall never trouble her, nor she me! I have been a slave long enough; but to-morrow, light; to-morrow, freedom!’