f mutual explanation. But there must be no mystery on your
part--no either heightening or smoothing what you may have learnt.
Speak out the simple truth; insinuate nought, for that love is
worthless, that husband false to his sacred charge, if he believes in
guilt ere he questions the accused."

Don Luis looked on the open countenance before him for a few minutes
without reply, thinking, not if he should spare him, but if his plans
might not be foiled, did Morales himself act as he had said. But the
pause was not long: never had he read human countenance aright, if
Arthur Stanley were not at that moment with Marie. He laid his hand
on Don Ferdinand's arm, and so peculiar was the expression on his
countenance, so low and plaintively musical the tone in which be
said, "God give you strength, my poor friend," that the rich color
unconsciously forsook the cheek of the hardy warrior, leaving him
pallid as death; and so sharp a thrill passed through his heart, that
it was with difficulty he retained his feet; but Morales was not
merely physically, he was mentally brave. With a powerful, a mighty
effort of will, he called life, energy, courage back, and said,
sternly and unfalteringly, "Don Luis Garcia, again I say, speak out! I
understand you; it is I who am the apparently injured husband. Marie!
Great God of heaven! that man should dare couple her pure name with
ignominy! Marie! my Marie! the seemingly guilty wife! Well, put forth
your tale: I am not the man to shrink from my own words. Speak truth,
and I will hear you; and--and, if I can, not spurn you from me as a
liar! Speak out!"

Don Luis needed not a second bidding: he had remarked, seen, and
heard quite enough the evening of Don Ferdinand's banquet, to require
nothing more than the simple truth, to harrow the heart of his hearer,
even while Morales disbelieved his every word. Speciously, indeed,
he turned his own mere suspicions as to Marie's unhappiness, and her
early love for Arthur, into realities, founded on certain information,
but with this sole exception--he told but the truth. Without moving
a muscle, without change of countenance, or uttering a syllable of
rejoinder, Don Ferdinand listened to Garcia's recital, fixing his
large piercing eye on his face, with a gaze that none but one so
hardened in hypocrisy could have withstood. Once only Morales's
features contracted for a single instant, as convulsed by some spasm.
It was the recollection of Marie's passio