“Have you any consideration for me left?” His look at her, as she put that question, revealed the most complete contrast between his face and hers. Compassionate sorrow was in his eyes, tender forbearance and respect spoke in his tones, as he answered her.
“I have more than consideration for you, Stella—”
She angrily interrupted him. “How dare you call me by my Christian name?”
He remonstrated, with a gentleness that might have touched the heart of any woman. “Do you still refuse to believe that I never deceived you? Has time not softened your heart to me yet?”
She was more contemptuous toward him than ever. “Spare me your protestations,” she said; “I heard enough of them two years since. Will you do what I ask of you?”
“You know that I will.”
“Put an end to your acquaintance with my husband. Put an end to it,” she repeated vehemently, “from this day, at once and forever! Can I trust you to do it?”
“Do you think I would have entered this house if I had known he was your husband?” He made that reply with a sudden change in him—with a rising color and in firm tones of indignation. In a moment more, his voice softened again, and his kind blue eyes rested on her sadly and devotedly. “You may trust me to do more than you ask,” he resumed. “You have made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“When Mr. Romayne introduced us, you met me like a stranger—and you left me no choice but to do as you did.”