“‘Juliet, there is no time for trifling; Captain Pierrepont is my friend; I have asked him to remain here in order that there may be a witness to what I say and to your reply.’ “‘But, Alfred, what have I done? Oh, my husband, tell me, what have I done?’ “I tried to clasp his hand, but he would not allow me to touch him. “‘We will dispense with all sham, Juliet. You can carry on the farce of love and fidelity no longer. I am convinced--most unwillingly convinced--that the rumors I have so long refused to credit are true.’ “‘I do not understand you,’ I cried, in an agony of impatience. ‘I cannot tell what you mean.’ “‘Few words describe best a great sin. Your guilt has come to light, Juliet; your wicked conduct is known, and the world shall judge between you and me.’ “‘Will you tell me what you mean?’ I cried, every limb trembling with impatience. “‘The intrigue that you have so long carried on with the Duke of Launceston is discovered!’ “I laughed aloud, thinking, poor, deluded victim, that it was but a sorry jest. “‘Nay, you may be hardened, Juliet, but you shall not show your heartlessness to me. Olte came to me this morning and told me of the awful discovery he had made. That was but the crowning point; before we had left London I had heard enough!’ “Remember, Mr. Eyrle, I was that man’s wife; I lived but in his love; I had never doubted him. I cannot tell you whether fear, horror, shame, or wonder predominated in my mind when I heard him. “‘From this hour,’ he continued, ‘we are strangers to each other. I shall appeal to the laws of my country for redress against the foulest wrong ever done to an unhappy man. You have sinned against me, Juliet; but the laws of the land shall avenge me.’ “I did not hear more, for at those terrible words I fell fainting to the floor.” CHAPTER XLIII. A WHITE SOUL. “When I came to my senses,” continued Lady Pelham, “I was more bewildered than anything else. I could not believe it was true--my husband had been playing some sorry, cruel jest upon me; still it was but a jest. “I had never given a thought to any man living except my own husband; surely he must know that. “The Duke of Launceston! what was he to me--a perfect stranger--indifferent. I did not care if I never saw him again. Of what did my husband accuse me? Oh, shame! Oh, horror! that he who had sworn to love and cherish me, to protect me, should be the one to play this sorry jest upon me. I must see him; I must hear him say with his own lips that it was all nonsense; he had done it all to try me. It was coarse, unfeeling, cruel, that he had not thought of that. He had perhaps been jesting with Captain Pierrepont. I must see him or I should go mad. I turned to the maid who knelt by my side, and told her to ask Sir Alfred to come to me at once.