“Yes,” she answered, gloomily.
“And thought that I was safe for a few hours, and would not keep an eye upon your movements?”
“What has that to do with it?”
“Simply this. A couple of hours after you shammed illness and left me, I went out into the Dene, and there I saw—”
“There you saw me!” she cried wildly, swaying forward, and clutching at the back of a chair for support. “Dieu! it is true, Frank; yes, true, I—I confess—I deceived you.”
“Then you admit it!” I ejaculated, hardly believing my own ears.
“Yes; yes, I do,” she moaned in tones of anguish. “But forgive me, and say no more about the occurrence. It was unfortunate, and no harm has been done.”
I tried with difficulty to restrain my passionate indignation. Such a cool request maddened me.
“Unfortunate?” I cried. “No; for me it is the reverse, for it has opened my eyes to your faithlessness. Forgive you this! The thing’s absurd!”
“I unfaithful!” she repeated, looking vacantly about her, and clasping her hands. “I never thought it could be misconstrued into that! I unfaithful! Am I not your wife?” and with heaving breast and tearful eyes she bent her head as if to avert my gaze.