ut he had seen
me! Could it be that he was thinking of?

My calmness was giving way. As soon as I spoke, though it was only in a
word of ejaculation, my pity for myself broke all the flood-gates down,
and I fell on my face in a paroxysm of sobs.

A very calm, loving voice, and a strong arm raising me, brought me back
at once from the wild ocean of passion on which I was tossing. I had not
heard him come in. I was too proud and grieved to speak or to weep. So I
dried my tears and sat stiffly silent.

"You are tired, dear!" said my husband, tenderly.

"No,--it's no matter."

"Everything is matter to me that concerns you. You know that,--you
believe that, Delphine?"

"Why, what a strange sound! just as it used to sound!" I said to myself,
whisperingly.

I know not what possessed me; but I was determined to have the truth,
and the whole truth. I turned towards him and looked straight into his
eyes.

"Tell me, truly, as you hope God will save you at your utmost need, _do_
you love me? Did you marry me from any motive but that of pure, true
love?"

"From no other," answered he, with a face of unutterable surprise; and
then added, solemnly, "And may God take me, Delphine, when you cease to
love me!"

It was enough. There was truth in every breath, in every glance of his
deep eyes. A delicious languor took the place of the horrible tension
that had been every faculty,--a repose so sweet and perfect, that, if
reason had placed the clearest possible proofs of my husband's perfidy
before me, I should simply have smiled and fallen asleep on his true
heart, as I did.

When I opened my eyes, I met his anxious look.

"Why, what has come over you, Del? I did not know you were nervous."

And then remembering, that, although I might be weakest among the weak,
yet that it was his wisdom that was to sustain and comfort me, I said,--

"By-and-by I will tell you all about it,--certainly I will. I must tell
you some time, but not to-night."

"And--I had thought to keep a secret from you, to-night, Del; but, on
the whole, I shall feel better to tell you."

"Yes,--perhaps,--perhaps."

"Oh, yes! Secrets are safest, told. First, then, Del, I will tell you
this secret. I am very foolish. Don't tell of it, will you? See here!"

He held up his closed hand before my face, laughingly.

That man's name, Del, is Drake"----

"And not the Devil!" said I to myself.

"Solitude Drake."

"Really? Is that it, truly? What's in your