This transaction permitted Faith to regain her composure entirely, so that when they were gone she was able to tell her mother all that had happened at the jail.

Mrs. Marvin was shocked and pained at the recital.

“Poor child,” she said, sorrowfully, “to think she is really his wife.  I wonder what could have been their motive for keeping it a secret!”

Faith shook her head.  She did not care to even conjecture.  It was a subject that cut her heart like a two-edged sword, for, try as she would, she could not condemn James Denton.

An hour later the maid brought her in a card.  Faith could hardly control her feelings as she saw that her caller was no other than young Denton.

“He must have been following me,” she said to her mother, “else how did he know that I was not at the store?”

Her mother smiled sadly, but did not answer.

Faith entered the parlor as calmly as she could, but her limbs were trembling and the tears were very near to falling.  She knew that she should spurn the coward, whom her whole soul despised, but she could not do it; her strength deserted her.

James Denton rose suddenly as she entered the door.  He looked like a ghost—­he was so pale and haggard.  Before she realized it, Faith extended her hand, then she drew it back quickly with a sudden revulsion.

“No, don’t offer to shake hands with me,” said James Denton, slowly.  “I am not fit to touch the hem of your garment, Miss Marvin.”

Faith looked at him as he stood there, pale, hollow-eyed and dejected, then with almost a cry she burst out impulsively: 

“Oh, how could you do such a thing, Mr. Denton?  How did you dare to wrong that poor girl as you have?  Don’t you know that in so doing you have branded yourself a coward?”

“So she has told you and saved me from doing so?”

Young Denton breathed a sigh of relief.  He had come too late with his awful confession.

“Yes, she told us, your father and me,” said Faith, faintly.  “Oh, it is dreadful—­dreadful; I can’t understand it!”

“Neither can I,” said James Denton, with a tinge of bitterness in his voice.  “I have never understood how I came to do it.  I was a fool—­an imbecile—­a lunatic, Miss Marvin.  I married the girl without even dreaming that I loved her.”

Faith stared at him in surprise as he spoke the words.  She was conscious even of a flutter of happiness as she listened to the confession.

“Then why did you marry her?” she asked at last.  She watched eagerly to hear his answer.

“It was all done for a lark,” began the young man.  “We were out with some friends, Miss Brady and I, and I—­I suppose we had all been drinking too much; then some one suggested a wedding, and I was fool enough to play the bridegroom.”

“And you did not love her?”

Faith asked the question slowly.

“Not a bit, Miss Marvin; I liked her, of course.  But she was in love with me; I discovered that later.”