"Then, sir, to which of these ladies, if either, did you intend this note should be delivered; and which, if either, did you meet at the ruined chapel at Sceaux? Speak, in God's name, and do not spare me! Suspicion is more terrible than truth." The very worst had come, and I felt my resolution waver. I knew not what story Agnes had told her husband, nor did I know who that other lady was. She looked enough like Agnes to have afforded shallow pretext for an evasion. Verily here was a strong temptation for a lie, and I was almost minded to tell it and relieve Agnes. Agnes, though, would give me no cue; never once did she lift her eyes to mine. I might even then have told the lie, but for the reflection it would compromise an innocent woman. "Captain, in God's name, speak! do you not see that I am quiet and self-controlled?" "Chevalier de la Mora, I shall tell you the exact truth, and hold you to your promise that there shall be no violence--now. What I did was through my fault alone, nor did your lady give me the slightest encouragement--she is blameless. It is a sore strait you have placed me in, but _this_ is the lady who has all a soldier's love, and a soldier's respect, which she has done nothing to forfeit." As I spoke, I indicated the shrinking figure of Agnes, and turned to meet the storm. Verily the storm did come, but from a different source. The elder lady rose with a fervent "Thank God!" which I could find no reason for her saying. Agnes nervously twisted at the table cover, her cheeks crimson with the shame. I could not resist a long look down upon her, and do what I might, my love showed full and strong in my face and mien. De la Mora keenly watched us all. That other lady, for whom I had no thought, to my utter surprise, moved toward him with hands outstretched, and cried: "Charles." For a moment he hesitated, then: "Oh, Agnes, Agnes, a lifetime's love and service can not compensate you for what I've made you suffer--the doubt I bore my loyal wife." He fell upon his knee before her and carried her hand to his lips as though she were a goddess, and then sprang toward me with the gladdest of glad smiles, thrust his hand at me, and came near to cracking mine by the vigor of his grasp. His throat choked up, and he said nothing. And all this while I looked from one to the other with a most dull and stupid stare. Agnes looked up at me once, radiant and confused, then lowered her eyes again. The Chevalier broke a silence which was becoming intolerable, to me at least, who did not understand it all. "Captain de Mouret, you have been in error, and have done me no wrong. This lady here is my worshiped wife, Madame Agnes de la Mora." I looked upon her incredulously, while that gracious woman took one hand from her husband long enough to extend to me her greeting. Thoroughly perplexed by this most unlooked for denouement, I asked: "Who, then, is _this_?"