A sudden misgiving appeared in Alma's eyes; she stared at him so
strangely that Harvey began to fear for her reason.

'What is it, dear? What have you been thinking? Tell me--speak like
yourself----'

'Why do you take so much interest in them?' she asked faintly.

'Heavens! You have suspected----? What _have_ you suspected?'

'They are your own. I have known it for a long time.'

Alarm notwithstanding, Rolfe was so struck by the absurdity of this
charge that he burst into stentorian laughter. Whilst he laughed, Alma
sank into a chair, powerless, tearful.

'I should much like to know,' exclaimed Harvey, laying a hand upon her,
'how you made that astounding discovery. Do you think they are like me?'

'The girl is--or I thought so.'

'After you had decided that she must be, no doubt.' Again he exploded
in laughter. 'And this is the meaning of it all? This is what you have
been fretting over? For how long?'

Alma brushed away her tears, but gave no answer.

'And if I am their father,' he pursued, with resolute mirthfulness,
'pray, who do you suppose their mother to be?'

Still Alma kept silence, her head bent.

'I'll warrant I can give you evidence against myself which you hadn't
discovered,' Rolfe went on--'awful and unanswerable evidence. It is I
who support those children, and pay for their education!--it is I, and
no other. See your darkest suspicion confirmed. If only you had known
this for certain!'

'Why, then, do you do it?' asked Alma, without raising her eyes.

'For a very foolish reason: there was no one else who could or would.'

'And why did you keep it a secret from me?'

'This is the blackest part of the whole gloomy affair,' he answered,
with burlesque gravity. 'It's in the depraved nature of men to keep
secrets from their wives, especially about money. To tell the truth,
I'm hanged if I know why I didn't tell you before our marriage. The
infamous step was taken not very long before, and I might as well have
made a clean breast of it. Has Mrs. Abbott never spoken to you about
her cousin, Wager's wife?'

'A word or two.'

'Which you took for artful fiction? You imagined she had plotted with
me to deceive you? What, in the name of commonsense, is your estimate
of Mrs. Abbott's character?'

Alma drew a deep breath, and looked up into her husband's face.
'Still--she knew you were keeping it from me, about the money.'

'She had no suspicion of it. She always wrote to me openly,
acknowled