"Why, what a strange sound! just as it used to sound!" I said to myself, whisperingly.
I know not what possessed me; but I was determined to have the truth, and the whole truth. I turned towards him and looked straight into his eyes.
"Tell me, truly, as you hope God will save you at your utmost need, do you love me? Did you marry me from any motive but that of pure, true love?"
"From no other," answered he, with a face of unutterable surprise; and then added, solemnly, "And may God take me, Delphine, when you cease to love me!"
It was enough. There was truth in every breath, in every glance of his deep eyes. A delicious languor took the place of the horrible tension that had been every faculty,—a repose so sweet and perfect, that, if reason had placed the clearest possible proofs of my husband's perfidy before me, I should simply have smiled and fallen asleep on his true heart, as I did.
When I opened my eyes, I met his anxious look.
"Why, what has come over you, Del? I did not know you were nervous."
And then remembering, that, although I might be weakest among the weak, yet that it was his wisdom that was to sustain and comfort me, I said,—
"By-and-by I will tell you all about it,—certainly I will. I must tell you some time, but not to-night."
"And—I had thought to keep a secret from you, to-night, Del; but, on the whole, I shall feel better to tell you."