"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, shuddering at the very idea of such a tragedy. "No, no. What benefit would it be to you or to me to have the stain of his blood on our hands?" "It would remove for ever the obstacle between us," he said; "would set you free; would place us where we were before." "Never, never," she replied. "I have been his wife--though such by fraud and trickery--and if he were dead, God knows I could not mourn him; yet I will not be his murderess, his executioner, as I shall be if I let you slay him. If he fell by your hand, I could never look upon your face again. Moreover, even were I hardened enough to do so--which I am not--do you not know that the French law permits no man to become the husband of a woman whose first husband he has slain? We should be as far apart then as ever--nay, farther, with his death between us always." "I know, I know," he said, recognising, however, as he did so that there was no possibility of his taking vengeance on Fordingbridge, since by doing so he would thus place such a barrier between them. "Yet there are other lands where one may live besides France and England. There is Sweden, where every soldier is welcome; there is----" "Cease, I beseech you, cease! It can never be. If in God's good time He sees fit to punish him, he will do so. If not, I must bear the lot that has fallen to me. Meanwhile be assured that once I find he has done this act of treachery, I shall never return to him." "And we shall meet in Paris--that is, if ever I can get back there?" "Yes," she answered. "We shall meet in Paris; for it is there I must go. There, at least, I must find a means of existence; though, since now we understand, since we have forgiven each other--is it not so?--'twould perhaps be best that we should not meet again." "No, no," he protested. "No, no. For even though this snake has crept in between us--so that never more can we be to each other what--what--my God!--what we once were; so that there must be no love, no passing of our days, our lives, together side by side--yet, Kate, we can at least know that the other is well if not happy; we can meet sometimes. Can we not? answer me." "Oh, go!" she exclaimed, breaking down at his words and weeping piteously, as she sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands. "Go! In mercy, go! I cannot bear your words; they break my heart. Leave me, I beseech you!" So--because he, too, could bear the interview no longer, and could not endure to see her misery--he left her, taking her hand and kissing it ere he departed, and whispering in her ear that soon they would meet again. CHAPTER XIII. MAN AND WIFE. The hackney coach drew up at Lady Belrose's house in Hanover-square a couple of hours after it had left Kensington-square, and Lord Fordingbridge, descending from it, rang a loud peal upon the bell.