"I have done no wrong, no harm, yet I am to
be driven from your house and home--I am to be sent away from you,
divorced in all but name. I say it is not fair, Norman--not just. All my
womanhood rises in rebellion against such a decree. What will the world
say of me? That I was weighed in the balance and found wanting--that I
was found to be false or light, due doubtless to my being lowly born. Do
you think I have no sense of honor--no wish to keep my name and fame
stainless? Could you do me a greater wrong, do you think, than to put me
away, not twelve hours after our marriage, like one utterly unworthy?"
He made no answer. She went on in her low, passionate, musical voice.
"When I read in history the story of Anne of Cleves, I thought it cruel
to be sought in marriage, brought over from another land, looked at,
sneered at, and dismissed; but, Norman, it seems to me her fate was not
so cruel as mine."
"You are wrong," he cried. "I hold you in all reverence, all honor, in
deepest respect. You are untouched by the disgrace attached to those
nearest to you. It is not that. You know that, even while I say we must
part, I love you from the very depths of my heart.
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