"
"I am not ill, Madaline," he said, with a low moan. "It is not that."
"Then something has happened--you have been frightened."
He unclasped her arms from his neck--their caress was a torture to him.
"My poor darling, my poor wife, it is far worse than that. No man has
ever seen a more ghastly specter than I have seen of death in life."
She looked round in quick alarm.
"A specter!" she cried fearfully; and then something strange in his face
attracted her attention. She looked at him. "Norman," she said, slowly,
"is it--is it something about me?"
How was he to tell her? He felt that it would be easier to take her out
into the glorious light of the sunset and slay her than kill her with
the cruel words that he must speak. How was he to tell her? No physical
torture could be so great as that which he must inflict; yet he would
have given his life to save her from pain.
"It is--I am quite sure," she declared, slowly--"something about me. Oh,
Norman, what is it? I have not been away from you long. Yet no change
from fairest day to darkest night could be so great as the change in you
since I left you.
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