“Are you displeased, Camille?” he asked, anxiously. “Why, I thought any woman would be delighted with so lovely a pet. I assure you she will win your heart as soon as you look into her sunny blue eyes.” She flung off his caressing hand as if it were a serpent, and with blazing eyes, hissed out: “A likely tale! Rescued from the wreck--ha! ha!” “My God, Camille, what do you mean by your scorn?” he cried, aghast. She turned on him like a beautiful tigress. “I mean, Norman de Vere, that you can not deceive me with such a trumped-up tale! How dare you, dare you, think to bring home your base-born brat, issue of some shameless clandestine affair, to the shelter of this honest roof?” CHAPTER IV. Norman de Vere was by no means unacquainted with the passionate and jealous temper of his wife, having experienced its evil effects many times during the two years in which he had been her husband. But her present outburst was so unexpected and so reasonless that he almost recoiled in terror from the fierce and angry glitter of the hazel eyes and the bitter sneer that distorted her lovely mouth. He could not speak. Sheer indignation and amazement held him silent, and pointing a disdainful finger at him, the angry woman continued: “No, I am not so easily duped as you expected! I know too much of the world and its wickedness! Your pretense is a very clever one, but I can see through it!” “Good heavens!” the young man exclaimed, in a shocked voice. His dark eyes blazed with indignation. She went on, sharply: “I wish you to understand that that brat can not remain under this roof to-night! You will send it away at once!” Norman de Vere, by humoring the caprices of a selfish woman, had made himself almost a slave to her despotic will. With her to speak had always been to be obeyed, and she expected no less now. “But, Camille, think,” he said, remonstratingly. “The child has no friends that I know of. Her mother perished in the wreck. I saved the child’s life, and I must take care of her until I hear from her friends. The charge you bring against me is utterly without foundation. Look at the little one. She is at least four years old. Remember, I was but a boy when I married you, two years ago.” “I have heard that you were very wild when you were at college,” she replied, tauntingly. “This, no doubt, is the outcome of your youthful folly. The wretched mother has no doubt deserted the child, and you, with a foolish sentimentality, dared bring it under this roof to rear. Or perhaps,” her voice rising almost to a shriek of rage, “you had a double purpose in bringing it here! You wished--wished,” with a hysterical sob, “to taunt me with my childlessness!”