detective traced her to London, and brought me word that a couple
answering the description of my wife and the butler had crossed the
channel on a certain date, and had since been living under the same roof
in London.

"Then I cursed my wife, and said I would never trust a human being again.
I was a long time getting over my lameness, but I still kept my detective
on the watch, and one day he came to me with the intelligence that the
butler had deserted his victim, and the lady was ill, and almost
destitute.

"That Mona should want or suffer, under any circumstances, was the last
thing I could wish, even though I then firmly believed that she had
deserted me; while the thought that my child might even lack the
necessities of life, was sufficient incentive to make me hasten at once
to her relief. But I have told you, Mona, that she was dead, and I found
only a weak and helpless baby to need my care. The nurse told me that
the lady had wanted to go to America several weeks previously, but her
physician had forbidden her to attempt to cross the ocean. She told me
that a gentleman had taken the room for her and had been very kind to
her, but the lady had been very unhappy and ill most of the time, since
coming to the house. I questioned her closely, but evidently Mona had
made a confidante of no one, and she had lived very quietly, seldom going
out, and seeing no one. I could not reconcile this with the fact of her
having eloped with the butler, and I realized all too late that I should
have come to her the moment I learned where she was, demanded an
explanation, and at least given her a chance to defend herself. My
darling might have lived, if I had done so, and my child would not
have been motherless.

"I was frantic with grief, and tried to drown my sorrow by constant
change of scene. I traveled for two years, and then was summoned home to
my aunt, who was dying. She insisted that my marriage with Miss Barton
should be immediately consummated, and I, too wretched to contest the
point, let them have their way. Miss Dinsmore died soon afterward, but
without suspecting my previous marriage. Then I confessed the truth to my
wife, and told her of the existence of my child. I saw at once that she
was deeply wounded upon learning of this secret of my life, but I never
suspected how exceedingly jealous and bitter she was, or that she had any
previous knowledge of the fact, until a little more than a year after our
marriage, w