"It cannot be," he replied, hoarsely. "You must urge me no more--you are
torturing me."
Then she rose, humbly enough, and turned away.
"I will say no more, Norman. Now do with me what you please."
There was silence for a few minutes. The sun was sinking low in the
western sky, the chirp of the birds was growing faint in the trees. She
raised her colorless face to his.
"I submit, Norman," she said. "You have some plan to propose. Do with me
just as you will."
It was cruel--no crueler fate had ever fallen to a man's lot--but honor
obliged him to act as he did. He took her hand in his.
"Some day, dear wife," he said, "you will understand what suffering this
step has cost me."
"Yes," she murmured, faintly; "I may understand in time."
"While I have been sitting here," he went on, "I have been thinking it
all over, and I have come to a decision as to what will be best for you
and for me. You are Lady Arleigh of Beechgrove--you are my wife; you
shall have all the honor and respect due to your position."
She shuddered as though the words were a most cruel mockery.
"You will honor," she questioned, bitterly, "the daughter of a felon?"
"I will honor my wife, who has been deceived even more cruelly than
myself," he replied.
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