"
Wondering at such words, Lord Arleigh followed his friend. There lay his
beautiful wife, lovelier than ever, with the sunlight touching her hair
with gold, her fair face transparent as the inner leaf of a
rose--Madaline, his darling, who had been his wife in name only.
What did it mean? Why had the earl led him thither? Was it wanton
cruelty or kindness? His first impulse was to fall on his knees by the
little couch and kiss his wife's hands, his second to ask why he had
been led thither to be tortured so. Madaline rose with a glad cry at his
entrance, but Lord Mountdean laid a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Lord Arleigh," said the earl, "tell me who this is."
"My wife, Lady Arleigh," he replied.
She bent forward with clasped hands.
"Oh, listen. Norman," she said, "listen."
"You looked upon her as the only woman you ever could love; you made her
your wife; yet, believing her to be the daughter of a felon, you
separated from her, preferring a life-time of misery to the dishonor of
your name. Is it not so, Lord Arleigh?"
"Yes," he replied, "it is indeed so."
"Then now learn the truth.
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