“The wife of another!” he burst forth, his voice shaking.  “Great God!  You?  What other?  Farnham?”

The bowed head sank yet lower, as though in mute answer, and his ears caught the echo of a single muffled sob.  Suddenly she glanced up at him, and then rose unsteadily to her feet clinging to the back of the chair for support.

“Mr. Winston,” her voice strengthening with each word spoken, “it hurts me to realize that you feel so deeply.  I—­I wish I might bear the burden of this mistake all alone.  But I cannot stand your contempt, or have you believe me wholly heartless, altogether unworthy.  We—­we must part, now and forever; there is no other honorable way.  I tried so hard to compel you to leave me before; I accepted that engagement at the Gayety, trusting such an act would disgust you with me.  I am not to blame for this; truly, I am not—­no woman could have fought against Fate more faithfully; only—­only I couldn’t find sufficient courage to confess to you the whole truth.  Perhaps I might have done so at first; but it was too late before I learned the necessity, and then my heart failed me.  There was another reason I need not mention now, why I hesitated, why such a course became doubly hard.  But I am going to tell you it all now, for—­for I wish you to go away at least respecting my womanhood.”

He made no reply, no comment, and the girl dropped her questioning eyes to the floor.

“You asked me if I had ever loved him,” she continued, speaking more slowly, “and I told you no.  That was the truth as I realize it now, although there was a time when the man fascinated, bewildered me, as I imagine the snake fascinates a bird.  I have learned since something of what love truly is, and can comprehend that my earlier feeling toward him was counterfeit, a mere bit of dross.  Be patient, please, while I tell you how it all happened.  It—­it is a hard task, yet, perhaps, you may think better of me from a knowledge of the whole truth.  I am a Chicago girl.  There are reasons why I shall not mention my family name, and it is unnecessary; but my parents are wealthy and of good position.  All my earlier education was acquired through private tutors; so that beyond my little, narrow circle of a world—­fashionable and restricted—­all of real life remained unknown, unexplored, until the necessity for a wider development caused my being sent to a well-known boarding-school for girls in the East.  I think now the choice made was unfortunate.  The school being situated close to a large city, and the discipline extremely lax, temptation which I was not in any way fitted to resist surrounded me from the day of entrance.  In a fashionable drawing-room, in the home of my mother’s friends, I first became acquainted with Mr. Farnham.”

She paused with the mention of his name, as though its utterance pained her, yet almost immediately resumed her story, not even glancing up at her listener.