Catherine quietly rose. “We won’t discuss it,” she said, with resignation. “I knew you would refuse me.” She approached the door. Her mother got up and resolutely stood in the way. “Before you commit an act of downright madness,” Mrs. Presty said, “I mean to try if I can stop you. Go back to your chair.”
Catherine refused.
“I know how it will end,” she answered; “and the sooner it ends the better. You will find that I am quite as determined as you are. A man who loves me as he loves me, is a man whom I refuse to deceive.”
“Let’s have it out plainly,” Mrs. Presty insisted. “He believes your first marriage has been dissolved by death. Do you mean to tell him that it has been dissolved by Divorce?”
“I do.”
“What right has he to know it?”
“A right that is not to be denied. A wife must have no secrets from her husband.”
Mrs. Presty hit back smartly.
“You’re not his wife yet. Wait till you are married.”
“Never! Who but a wretch would marry an honest man under false pretenses?”