The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1915-08-27

had the sense to realize that I .ha'
done you wrong in marrying you
Your letters-especially one which
found on my return-showed me that
| saw that l had been a cad to TAX
advantage of young girls Difficult
ties and passing infatuation'
II made inquiries. 1 heard that yo'
were at least more prosperous ant
happy than you would have been al
my wife. l determined to remain deat
to you forever I made up my mint
to never return to England. 1t il
most unfortunate that We should have
met like this"
His words showed him to be un
aware of any illegality about theil
marriage. She was glad of that. She
looked aside and downward to hide
the light that came into her eyes
Then her lips set firmly, her expires
sion hardened. She looked straight
before her. ut was very wicked OF
you not to have let me know" she
said harshly. Il dare say you meant
we'll, but believing me to be your wife
you were bound to tell me you were
still alive. You might have foreseen
that l should marry again."
He appeared puzzled rather thai
moved by her reproaches "'Bellev'
ing you to have been my WIFE" he re-
peated. "Well, weren't you?"
She spoke coldly and positively.
"You made a false declaration of ny
age in the application for the license
and in the register itself. I was IN.
der age, as you know, and could net
be lawfully married without my guard
ian's consent. OF course" she went
on quickly, with all the assurance she
could put into her tone, that vol led
the ceremony. I thought all men at
least knew these things
But for all the certainty her words
expressed she shot him a frightened
half-questioning glance.
Does Varney know all this?" ne
asked quietly.
mo. The girl spoke of warned me
not to tell him. She said that man
would never believe that had acted
innocently. that I had believed our
marriage was binding. He would have
thought" Leslie's cheeks crimson
ed and she broke off. And as believ
ed you to be dead. it did not eeeI1
worth while to tell him. see now
how wrong of me it was Oh, Victor.
why didn't you write?"'
She clasped her small hands and
stamped her foot angrily. The man
at her side looked up quickly. "Wi,ar
difference would it have made, since
you believed-since you knew-that
our marriage was void?"
He seemed tc be waiting hunerJ"
hopefully for her answer. For an in.
slant their eyes met. He had looked
like that when he told her he loved
her in the Hastings garden. She low
cred her long lashes.
"Oh, how can you ask me?" she
cried with despafring gesture. lie.
gally married or not, l regarded N.Y.
self as your wife. At least l should
not have become the wife of another
man without telling him that you
were alive"
He wheeled sharply round as if dis
appointed at her answer, and stared
with a hard. set face at the mountains.
Il must tell him now" went on Les.
lie passtonately. Heavens knows
what he will say, what he will think
OF me. l was mad not to have told
him.
You must not dream of telling him
now.'. said Victor gravely
"Of course I shall tell him. Some
one else might-someone who has
seen US together in the past. He
might misunderstood our relations. -"
She blushed again as the phrase at
the back Of her mind escaped her.
There is more reason for keepin z
the secret now than when you thought
l was dead" he maintained Men are
not Jealous Of dead men-they may lie
OF living. l don't mean to suggest"
he said, with bitter smile, that Var
ney has any real reason for Jealousy
OF me. but my existence would make
him feel uncomfortable all the same
AS to other people betraying our Sc