“I mean that my secret must be kept, even if we part,” she gasped, with a futile endeavour to compose herself.
“This is your final decision, then?”
“Alas! it must be.”
“Very well, Vera, I wish you adieu,” I said sadly, for I was completely broken-hearted at the thought of my idol’s deceit, and the transparent subterfuges by which she had endeavoured to conceal her guilt. “We have been happy during the few months of our wedded life, but that is a thing of the past. Henceforth mine will be a dark, hopeless existence, while yours, I trust, may be as pleasant as it has hitherto been; for though you have dishonoured me, I love you too well, even now, to wish any calamity should ever befall you.”
“No, Frank, don’t leave me. I could not bear it!” she shrieked, bursting into a torrent of tears. “I have told you the truth—I have, by heaven! It is my terrible misfortune that I am unable to explain who that man was, and from the same cause it has not been possible for me to acquaint you with anything relating to my past. Wait patiently for a little, and I promise you faithfully—I swear you shall know everything.”
She was terribly in earnest, I could see; her whole future depending upon my decision that moment. It was the secret of her life I was anxious to learn beyond anything, and I asked:
“How long must I wait?”
She gazed at me for a few seconds blankly, apparently making some calculation.
“Three weeks. Wait till then before you condemn me—do, I implore of you!”
What ingenious motive could there be in thus gaining time, I asked myself. Could it be that in three weeks’ time the murderer would be safely out of the country?