“Sirs, I believe I uttered a cry and stumbled towards her.  Some one in that room uttered a cry, but it may be that it only rose in my heart and that the one I heard came from my father’s lips.  For when at the door I turned, startled at the deathly silence, I saw he had fainted on his pillow.  I could not leave him so.  Calling to Mrs. Daniels, who was never far from my father in those days, I bade her stop the lady—­I believe I called her my wife—­who was going down the stairs, and then rushed to his side.  It took minutes to revive him.  When he came to himself it was to ask for the creature who had flashed like a beacon of light upon his darkening path.  I rose as if to fetch her but before I could advance I heard a voice say, ‘She is not here,’ and looking up I saw Mrs. Daniels glide into the room.

“‘Mrs. Blake has gone, sir, I could not keep her.’

CHAPTER XIII

A MAN’S HEART

“That was the last time my eyes ever I rested upon my wife.  Whither she went or what refuge she gained, I never knew.  My father who had received in this scene a great shock, began to fail so rapidly, he demanded my constant care; and though from time to time as I ministered to him and noted with what a yearning persistency he would eye the door and then turn and meet my gaze with a look I could not understand, I caught myself asking whether I had done a deed destined to hang forever about me like a pall; it was not till after his death that the despairing image of the bright young creature to whom I had given my name, returned with any startling distinctness to my mind, or that I allowed myself to ask whether the heavy gloom which I now felt settling upon me was owing to the sense of shame that overpowered me at the remembrance of the past, or to the possible loss I had sustained in the departure of my young unloved bride.

“The announcement at this time of the engagement between Evelyn Blake and the Count De Mirac may have had something to do with this.  Though I had never in the most passionate hours of my love for her, lost sight of that side of her nature which demanded as her right the luxury of great wealth; and though in my tacit abandonment of her and secret marriage with another I had certainly lost the right to complain of her actions whatever they might be, this manifest surrendering of herself to the power of wealth and show at the price of all that women are believed to hold dear, was an undoubted blow to my pride and the confidence I had till now unconsciously reposed in her inherent womanliness and affection.  That she had but made on a more conspicuous scale, the same sacrifice as myself to the god of Wealth and Position, was in my eyes at that time, no palliation of her conduct.  I was a man none too good or exalted at the best; she, a woman, should have been superior to the temptations that overpowered me.  That she was not, seemed to drag all womanhood a little nearer the dust; fashionable womanhood I ought to say, for somehow even at that early day her conduct did not seem to affect the vivid image of Luttra standing upon my threshold, shorn of her joy but burning with a devotion I did not comprehend, and saying,