"Say what you have to say
and be brief."
Myra Willard drew close to the woman and looked long and searchingly into
her face. The other returned her gaze with contemptuous indifference.
"I have been sorry for you," said Myra Willard slowly. "I have not wished
to speak. But I know what you said to Sibyl, here in the studio; and I
overheard what you said to Mr. King, a few minutes ago. I cannot keep
silent."
"Proceed," said Mrs. Taine, shortly. "Say what you have to say, and be
done with it."
Myra Willard obeyed. "Mrs. Taine, twenty-six years ago, your guardian, the
father of James Rutlidge won the love of a young girl. It does not matter
who she was. She was beautiful and innocent That was her misfortune.
Beauty and innocence often bring pain and sorrow, madam, in a world where
there are too many men like Mr. Rutlidge, and his son. The girl thought
the man--she did not know him by his real name--her lover. She thought
that he became her husband. A baby was born to the girl who believed
herself a wife; and the young mother was happy. For a short time, she was
very happy.
"Then, the awakening came. The girl mother was holding her baby to her
breast, and singing, as happy mothers do, when a strange woman appeared in
the open door of the room.
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