at night?" asked
Hartley, in a cold, resolute way.

No answer.

"And did you always come directly home?"

Hartley Emerson was looking steadily into the face of his wife, from
which he saw the color fall away until it became of an ashen hue.

"You do not care to answer. Well, silence is significative," said
the husband, closing his lips firmly. There was a blending of anger,
perplexity, pain, sorrow and scorn in his face, all of which Irene
read distinctly as she fixed her eyes steadily upon him. He tried to
gaze back until her eyes should sink beneath his steady look, but
the effort was lost; for not a single instant did they waver.

He was about turning away, when she arrested the movement by saying,

"Go on, Hartley Emerson! Speak of all that is in your mind. You have
now an opportunity that may never come again."

There was a dead level in her voice that a little puzzled her
husband.

"It is for you to speak," he answered. "I have put my
interrogatories."

Unhappily, there was a shade of imperiousness in his voice.

"I never answer insulting interrogatories; not even from the man who
calls himself my husband," replied Irene, haughtily.

"It may be best for you to answer," said Hartley. There was just the
shadow of menace in his tones.

"Best!" The lip of Irene curled slightly. "On whose account, pray?"

"Best for each of us. Whatever affects one injuriously must affect
both."

"Humph! So we are equals!" Irene tossed her head impatiently, and
laughed a short, mocking laugh.

"Nothing of that, if you please!" was the husband's impatient
retort. The sudden change in his wife's manner threw him off his
guard.

"Nothing of what?" demanded Irene.

"Of that weak, silly nonsense. We have graver matters in hand for
consideration now."

"Ah?" She threw up her eyebrows, then contracted them again with an
angry severity.

"Irene," said Mr. Emerson, his voice falling into a calm but severe
tone, "all this is but weakness and folly. I have heard things
touching your good name--"

"And believe them," broke in Irene, with angry impatience.

"I have said nothing as to belief or disbelief. The fact is grave
enough."

"And you have illustrated your faith in the slander--beautifully,
becomingly, generously!"

"Irene!"

"Generously, as a man who knew his wife. Ah, well!" This last
ejaculation was made almost lightly, but it involved great
bitterness of spirit.

"Do not speak any longer after this fas