r
love and trust upon another human being and then suddenly find---- But wait.
Let me tell the story in my own way. No, your husband is not hurt,
physically. Illness, and death even, are not the worst things that can
happen to a mortal soul. It seems to me cruel, as I see you sit there so
young and tender and beautiful, that I should have to hurt you by what I
have to say. I come from the purest of motives to tell you a sad truth
about one who should be nearest and dearest to you of all the earth. I beg
you will look upon me kindly and believe that it hurts me to have to tell
you these things. Before I begin I pray you will tell me that you forgive
me for all I have to say. Put your hand in mine and say so."

Marcia had listened to this torrent of words unable to stop them, a
choking sensation in her throat, fear gripping her heart. Some terrible
thing had happened. Her senses refused to name the possibility. Would he
never tell? What ailed the man that he wanted her hand in forgiveness? Of
course she forgave him. She could not speak, and he kept urging.

"I cannot talk until I have your hand as a pledge that you will forgive me
and think not unkindly of me for what I am about to tell you."

He must have seen how powerfully he wrought upon her, for he continued
until wild with frantic fear she stumbled toward him and laid her hand in
his. He grasped it and thanked her profusely. He looked at the little cold
hand in his own, and his lying tongue went on:

"Mrs. Spafford, you are good and true. You have saved me from a life of
uselessness, and your example and high noble character have given me new
inspiration. It seems a poor gratitude that would turn and stab you to the
heart. Ah! I cannot do it, and yet I must."

This was torture indeed! Marcia drew her hand sharply away and held it to
her heart. She felt her brain reeling with the strain. Harry Temple saw he
must go on at once or he would lose what he had gained. He had meant to
keep that little hand and touch it gently with a comforting pressure as
his story went on, but it would not do to frighten her or she might take
sudden alarm.

"Sit down," he begged, reaching out and drawing a chair near to his own,
but she stepped back and dropped into the one which she had first taken.

"You know your husband has been in New York?" he began. She nodded. She
could not speak.

"Did you never suspect why he is there and why he stays so long?" A cold
vise gripped Marcia'