He laughs softly. "Yes, I. I knew you would be delighted." All the time he is gazing at her critically, apparently viewing her loveliness with an approving eye. And now the woman feels through her whole being but the one instinct--hate. She has forgotten all fear, and stands before him erect, pallid, but with eye and lip expressing the bitterness that rages within her. "You won't say you are glad to see me? Cruel Alice," he murmurs, plaintively. "And after all these years, too; how many are they, my dear?" "No matter!" fiercely. "They have given the devil ample time to claim his own, and yet you are upon earth!" "Yes," serenely; "both of us." "Both of us, then. How dare you seek me out?" "My dear wife, I never did you so much honor. I came to this house for another purpose, and Providence, kind Providence, has guided me to you." The woman seemed recalled to herself. Again the look of fear overspread her face, and looking nervously about her, she said. "For God's sake, hush! What you wish to say say out, but don't let your voice go beyond these walls." "Dear Alice, my voice never was vulgarly loud, was it? recollect, if you please," in an injured tone. "Well! well! what do you want with me? Percy Jordan, I warn you--I am not the woman you wronged ten years ago." "No; by my faith, you are a handsomer woman, and you carry yourself like a duchess. Why didn't you do that when you were Mrs.--" "Hush!" she cried; "you base liar, it did not take me long to find you out, even then. Don't forget that you have lived in fear of me for ten long years." "Just so," serenely; "haven't they been long? But they are ended now, my dear; my incubus is dead and--" "But documents don't die," she interrupted; "don't forget that!" "Not for worlds. For instance, I remember that in a certain church register may be seen the marriage lines of Alice Ford and--ahem--myself. And somewhere, not far away, there must be on record the statement that Mr. Arthur, of Oakley, has wedded the incomparable Mrs. Torrance, a blonde widow--ahem. Where did you go, my dear, when you left my bed and board so very unceremoniously? "'What had I done, or what hadst thou, That through this weary world till now I've walked with empty arms.'" He stretched out those members tragically. "And I don't forget that I was never legally your wife, as you had another living," cried Cora, ignoring the latter part of his speech. "No; of course not. Does Mr. John Arthur know that you were once my--" "Dupe? no," she interrupted. "Come, time passes; tell me what you know, and what you want." "Softly, softly, Mrs. Arthur. I know enough to insure me against being turned out of Oakley by you; and I want a wife and a fortune." "I don't understand you." [Illustration: "The soft voice utters, in tones of mingled hate and fear, '_You?_'"--page 149.]