onshire,
to Selina Mary Smithson. No cards."

Just a commonplace announcement of marriage like any other. Kitty's eyes
travelled to the top of the paper where the date was printed: 1863. "It
is a long while ago," she said, pointing to the figures. "His wife may
be dead." Her voice sounded hoarse and unnatural, even in her own ears.

"Perhaps so," said Hugo, carelessly. "If he said that she were, I should
not be much inclined to believe him. After all these years of secrecy a
man will say anything. But he told me last year that she was living."

Kitty laid down the paper with a sort of gasp and shiver. She murmured
something to herself--it sounded like a prayer--"God help me!" or words
to that effect--but she was quite unconscious of having spoken. Hugo
took up the paper, and replaced it carefully in his pocket-book. He had
held it in reserve for some time now; but he was not quite sure that it
had done all its work.

"And now," he went on, "you see a part--not the whole--of my motives,
Kitty. I had been raging in my heart against this fellow's insolence for
long enough; I wanted to stop the slanderous tongues of the people who
were talking about you; and I hoped--when you were so kind and gracious
to me--that you meant to be my wife. Therefore, when I asked you and you
refused me, I grew desperate. Believe me, Kitty, or not, as you choose,
but my love for you has nearly maddened me. I could not leave you
to lay yourself open to the world's contempt and scorn: I was
afraid--afraid--lest Vivian should do you harm in the world's eyes, and
so I tried to save you, dear, to save you from yourself and him--even
against your own will, when I brought you here."

His eyes grew moist, and lost some of their wildness: he drew nearer,
and ventured almost timidly to take her hand. She did not repulse him,
and from her silence and motionlessness he gathered courage.

"I thought to myself," he said, "that here, at least, was a refuge: here
was a man who loved you, and was ready to give you his home and his
name, and show the world that he loved you in spite of all. Here was a
chance for you, I thought, to show that you had not given your heart
where it was not wanted; that you were not that pitiable object, a woman
scorned. But you refused me. So then I took the law into my own hands.
Was I so very wrong?"

He paused, and she suddenly burst out into wild hysterical sobs and
tears.

"Let me go home," she said, between her sobs.