“_This_, at any rate, is not anonymous,” replied Alice, pushing the certificate towards him. He took it up, read it, turned it over, and read it again. She observed that his face was a shade paler, but otherwise he was perfectly composed, as he said: “_This_ is a most infamous forgery. I know no one of the name of Fanny Cole, and I need hardly say I never was married before.” “And is this _all_ you have to say?” inquired his wife. “All! Good heavens, Alice! what more can I say? I assure you most solemnly I was never married to anyone but you; you know it as well as I do myself. I never met a woman I cared to speak to twice till I saw you that evening at Malta. What is the good of repeating the same old story over again--just now, at all events--when we have such heaps of things to say to each other? As to this infamous certificate, I will take good care to have it thoroughly investigated, and the whole thing cleared up, you may rely on that. It is my affair altogether; do not trouble your little head any more about it.” Drawing her towards him--“Come, are you not very glad to see me? Have you no better welcome for me than this? Do you know that I have been counting the very milestones till I reached home; and now I _am_ here, won’t you say you are glad to see me, my dearest?” Alice leant her head against his shoulder; she was weak, she knew it; he was talking her over, as Miss Fane predicted; every word he uttered found an echo in her heart--her heart that was beating suffocatingly. She trembled from head to foot. On one hand was love and everything that made life dear to her; on the other, honour, duty, pride. She must make her choice between right and wrong. “Speak, Alice!” interrupted her husband, getting a little out of patience at last. “Yes, I’ll speak,” she returned in a hard mechanical voice, abruptly releasing herself and standing before him. “Do you know,” she continued, with slow distinct utterance, “that that certificate” (pointing to where it lay on the table) “has been shown to a firm of solicitors?” “Indeed!” replied Sir Reginald, in a tone of much surprise. “At whose suggestion?” “Miss Fane advised me. Geoffrey and Mr. Mayhew took it to a firm they could rely on.” “Well, I really think you might all have waited for my return before taking such an important step,” said Sir Reginald with some indignation. “I wonder _you_ allowed it, Alice. It did not show much confidence in me, I must confess. And what did the solicitors say?” he proceeded, in a cool displeased tone. “They said----” and she paused; then continued with an effort--“they said it was a true copy!” raising her eyes to his. “A true copy!” he echoed. “I never heard such nonsense in all my life--_never_!” he exclaimed emphatically. “When there is no original, how can there be a copy?”