struck his fist upon the table vehemently, answering:

"'Fore God, it is always thus with the howling wenches! That which they
most disclaim will they do. She hath not waited until her husband was
dead, but hath married--"

"Drummond, hold your peace; she is the mother of my children and was
true to me while my wife. Unless you would lose my friendship, speak not
against the woman whom I still love," and John Stevens buried his white
head in his hands and trembled as if in an ague fit.

"Forgive me, my friend; forgive me; I was hasty," said Drummond. "I have
naught to say against the woman who was and still is your wife. Verily,
she hath had her punishment,--and the poor children, how they have
suffered."

"I know all," John sobbed.

"What will you do?"

"Alas, I know not."

"Why not declare yourself to the world and claim your wife?"

"What! Illegalize the marriage and make an adulteress of my wife? No,
never! I pray you, my friends, pledge me on your oaths as gentlemen
never to reveal my identity, while she or I shall live."

Drummond, who was impetuous and hated Hugh Price, cried:

"And will you leave her to him?"

"Yes," was the low, meek answer.

"Will you not seek revenge?"

"'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.'"

Drummond was choking with fury and amazement. After a moment he regained
control over himself, and gasped:

"Heavens! can God permit such injustice? And you will surrender her to
him?"

"They believe themselves lawfully married. She hath committed no crime
in the sight of heaven."

"But wherefore not tear her from his arms and fly to some foreign land?"

"Nay, my friend, we have two children, a son and daughter, for whose
peace we must have a care. Dare I for their sakes declare who I am?"

Drummond was eager to put a bullet into the brain of Price; but John
Stevens was a man of peace and not of blood. His days were few on earth;
his race was almost run, and the prime and vigor of his manhood had been
wasted on a desert island. His only desire was to hover unknown about
those he loved, that they might not want or suffer while he lived, and
he had already arranged his fortune so it would descend to Robert and
Rebecca when he died.

"Yet I must live unknown, my friends. Swear to keep my secret."

They swore on their honor, and the miserable old man, whose fine apparel
was only a disguise, rose and left them. The three friends were sitting
looking at each other in s