“But I don’t consider you either wrong or misled,” protested the other.  “That is,” he warily added, “I am ready to accept the correctness of the possibility you mention and afterwards to note where the supposition will lead us.  Of course, your first sensation is that of relief.”

“It will be when I am no longer the prey of doubts.”

“Notwithstanding the mystery?”

“Notwithstanding the mystery.  The one thing I have found it impossible to contemplate is her death;—­the extinction of all hope which death alone can bring.  She has become so blended with my every thought since the hour she vanished from my eyes and consequently from my protection, that I should lose the better part of my self in losing her.  Anything but that, Mr. Harper.”

“Even possible shame?”

“How, shame?”

“Some reason very strong and very vital must underlie her conduct if what we suspect is true, and she has not only been willing to subject you and herself to a seeming separation by death, but to burden herself with the additional misery of being obliged to assume a personality cumbered by such a drawback to happiness and even common social intercourse as this of the supposed Anitra.”

“You mean her deafness?”

“I mean that, yes.  What could Mrs. Ransom’s motive be (if the woman sleeping yonder is Mrs. Ransom) for so tremendous a sacrifice as this you ascribe to her?  The rescue of her sister from some impending calamity?  That would argue a love of long standing and of superhuman force; one far transcending even her natural affection for the husband to whom she has just given her hand.  Such a love under such circumstances is not possible.  She has known this long lost sister for a few days only.  Her sense of duty towards her, even her compassion for one so unfortunate, might lead her to risk much, but not so much as that.  You must look for some other explanation; one more reasonable and much more personal.”

“Where? where?  I’m all at sea; blinded, dazed, almost at my wits’ end.  I can see no reason for anything she has done.  I neither understand her nor understand myself.  I ought to shrink from the poor creature there, sleeping off—­I don’t know what.  But I don’t.  I feel drawn to her, instead, irresistibly drawn, as if my place were at her bedside to comfort and protect.”

At this impulsive assertion springing from a depth of feeling for which the staid lawyer had no measure, a perplexed frown chased all the urbanity from his face.  Some thought, not altogether welcome, had come to disturb him.  He eyed Mr. Ransom closely from under his clouded brows.  He could do this now with impunity, for Mr. Ransom’s glances were turned whither his thoughts and inclinations had wandered.

“I would advise you,” came in slow comment from the watchful lawyer, “not to be too certain of your conclusions till doubt becomes an absolute impossibility.  Instinct is a good thing but it must never be regarded as infallible.  It may be proved that it is your wife who has fled, after all.  In which case it would be a great mistake to put any faith in this gipsy girl, Anitra.”