"Victoria, there is still time to stop," said Lawrence calmly.
"That man is my husband!"
Phillis looked from one to the other, understanding nothing. The man stood quietly stroking his great beard with his fingers, and looking straight at Mrs. Cassilis.
"My husband. We were married six years ago and more. We were married in Scotland, privately; but he is my husband, and five days after our wedding he left me. Is that true?"
"Perfectly. You have forgotten nothing, except the reason of my departure. If you think it worth while troubling Phillis with that, why——"
"We quarrelled; that was the reason. He used cruel and bitter language. He gave me back my liberty."
"We separated, Phillis, after a row, the like of which you may conceive by remembering that Mrs. Cassilis was then six years younger, and even more ready for such encounters than at present. We separated; we agreed that things should go on as if the marriage, which was no marriage, had never taken place. Janet, the maid, was to be trusted. She stayed with her mistress; I went abroad. And then I heard by accident that my wife had taken the liberty I gave her, in its fullest sense, by marrying again. Then I came home, because I thought that chapter was closed; but it was not, you see; and for her sake I wish I had stayed in America."
Mrs. Cassilis listened as if she did not hear a word; then she went on—
"He is my husband still. I can claim him when I want him; and I claim him now. I say, Lawrence, so long as I live you shall marry no other woman. You are mine; whatever happens, you are mine."
The sight of the man, callous, immovable, suddenly seemed to terrify her. She sank weeping at his knees.