e truth. When I say now
that I was not, I also speak truly. In the interval, I have learned to
appreciate the character of the woman who is now my wife. That is all. I
know now that the Montalbon's story blazoned forth to the world, would
not have affected her faith in me, if I had told her my own version."

"For heaven's sake, gentlemen," interrupted Mr. Neuilly, "stop this
argument, and get down to the facts. I am impatient to know the truth."

"Yes, Roy," said Emily, "why not simply tell the story as a narrative,
and let the whole truth be known?"

"That is what I mean to do. I have only been enjoying a little sparring
with Mr. Barnes. But it is cruel to Mr. Neuilly, who I hope will pardon
me. To begin at the beginning, I must go back to my youth in New
Orleans. I was in love with a beautiful young girl." Here he pressed his
wife's hand, and she returned it, as though to say that she understood.
"I think I need not mention the name of Rose's mother, Mr. Neuilly,
unless you have already done so."

"Heaven forbid that I should have betrayed the secret," said the old
man.

"I did not suppose that you had, for I know you to be a true man, though
I have never met you before. This statement may surprise you, but it is
true. I am not the man for whom you take me. He is now in a lunatic
asylum, whilst I am his cousin. I know it is supposed that I am the
crazy man, but that is an error, promulgated by the Montalbon to serve
her own ends. The facts then are thus: Whilst a boy at school I loved my
girl companion, little Rose's mother. Just before I left the South to
enter Harvard, I told my little girl sweetheart--she was then but
fifteen--that I would marry her upon my return. This was my first love,
and hers. I had a cousin, older than myself by ten years, handsome and
wealthy, but a gambler, and addicted to heavy drinking. This woman
Montalbon, as you know, kept a gambling den and naturally my unfortunate
cousin was a constant visitor at the house. One night whilst intoxicated
with wine, she persuaded him to marry her, a clergyman being called in
and a ceremony privately performed. He became entirely sober only after
several days had passed, and then had entirely forgotten about the
marriage. The scheming devil, Montalbon, did not remind him of it, but
by patient work insidiously persuaded him that he should be a married
man. She even suggested a bride, none other than my little sweetheart.
Her object in this was twofol