e was an
object of envy. I offered her a home, and the protection of a father--on
the only terms which the world would recognize as worthy of us.
My experience of her since our marriage has been the experience of
unvarying goodness, sweetness, and sound sense. She has behaved so
nobly, in a trying position, that I wish her (even in this life) to have
her reward. I entreat her to make a second choice in marriage, which
shall not be a mere form. I firmly believe that she will choose well
and wisely--that she will make the happiness of a man who is worthy
of her--and that, as wife and mother, she will set an example of
inestimable value in the social sphere that she occupies. In proof of
the heartfelt sincerity with which I pay my tribute to her virtues, I
add to this my will the clause that follows."

With the clause that followed, Ernest was already acquainted.

"Will you now believe that I never loved till I saw your face for the
first time?" said his wife. "I had no experience to place me on my guard
against the fascination--the madness some people might call it--which
possesses a woman when all her heart is given to a man. Don't despise
me, my dear! Remember that I had to save you from disgrace and ruin.
Besides, my old stage remembrances tempted me. I had acted in a play in
which the heroine did--what I have done! It didn't end with me, as it
did with her in the story. _She_ was represented as rejoicing in the
success of her disguise. _I_ have known some miserable hours of doubt
and shame since our marriage. When I went to meet you in my own person
at the picture-gallery--oh, what relief, what joy I felt, when I saw
how you admired me--it was not because I could no longer carry on the
disguise. I was able to get hours of rest from the effort; not only at
night, but in the daytime, when I was shut up in my retirement in the
music-room; and when my maid kept watch against discovery. No, my
love! I hurried on the disclosure, because I could no longer endure the
hateful triumph of my own deception. Ah, look at that witness against
me! I can't bear even to see it!"

She abruptly left him. The drawer that she had opened to take out
the copy of the will also contained the false gray hair which she had
discarded. It had only that moment attracted her notice. She snatched it
up, and turned to the fireplace.

Ernest took it from her, before she could destroy it. "Give it to me,"
he said.

"Why?"

He drew her gently to