“I am sure that while she was careful not to appear in the matter, Madame L’Orient, who was an accomplished intriguante, forwarded our marriage. Alas, before many months, I understood and felt, both how bitterly I had sinned and had been sinned against. I remained at school as before my marriage, as it was the decision of my husband and mother-in-law, who did not wish the reputation of her establishment to suffer, to keep the union a secret until after I should have finally left school and returned to England and my father’s house. My husband, who had lodgings near the Pensionnat, visited me at his own convenience rather than at mine. Oh, very soon indeed I discovered the worthlessness of the man who had ensnared my childish heart and hand! Would you believe of any man scarcely, such things as I am about to tell you of him?—not that I wish to reflect dishonor on the dead, but that I wish you, Lord Montressor, to know how soon and how terribly I expiated my sin. Victoire was addicted to inebriation, to gambling and licentiousness, and every species of dissipation and excess. These vices kept him always in want of money; and he not only seized and turned into cash my girlish trinkets, and appropriated all my pocket-money, but _abused_ me when I had no more to give him, bidding me write to my father for funds.” “OH-H!” groaned Lord Montressor, with the energy of a man who strives hard to repress himself. “I did as he bade me. I drew freely on my father, who always lectured me severely for my supposed extravagance, _without_ always honoring my supposed drafts; and when he did not,” continued Estelle, rising, standing before him, extending both her hands, and surveying her own beautiful figure, “this little form you cherish so tenderly, this slight frame, that was even smaller then, bore, in black and blue, the marks of his violence.” “Oh-h!” once more groaned Lord Montressor, losing self-command, starting up, and pacing the floor. Then returning, he reseated Estelle, stood leaning over her chair, and asked under his breath: “Was the creature left to die a natural death?” Stella shook her head, saying: “Patience, beloved! God had patience with him, why should not we? As for myself, my sufferings were a just retribution. The froward maiden and undutiful daughter was fitly punished. Young as I was I felt it so, and thus, with some grace of patience, I accepted it all—all, Montressor!” Again, unable to proceed, she paused, and dropped her face upon her hands, he waiting silently. Presently she gathered firmness and proceeded: