"You cannot tell an innocent from a guilty person," Mrs. Greyfield returned, with a touch of that asperity that was sometimes noticeable in her utterances. Then, more quietly: "Both are shocked alike at being accused; one because he is innocent; the other, because he is guilty. How much a person is shocked depends upon temperament and circumstance. The guilty person, always consciously in danger of being accused, is likely to be prepared and on the defensive, while the other is not. "What Mr. Seabrook did, was to turn upon me a look of keen observation, not unmixed with surprise. It might mean one thing; it might mean another; how could I tell? He always impressed me so with his superiority that even in that moment, when my honor and life's happiness were at stake, I was conscious of a feeling of abasement and guiltiness that I dare accuse _him_ to his face. Perhaps, he saw that I was frightened at my own temerity; at all events he was not thrown off his guard. "'Do I understand you to charge me with crime--a very ugly crime, indeed?' he asked pointedly. "'You know,' I said, 'whether you are guilty. If you are, may God so deal with you as you have meant to deal with me.' "I fancied that he winced slightly at this; but in my excitement could not have seen very clearly. He knitted his brows, and took several turns up and down the room. "'If I knew who had put this monstrous idea into your mind,' he finally said with vehemence; 'I would send a bullet through his heart!' "'In that case,' I replied: 'you could not expect me to tell you;' and I afterwards made that threat my excuse for concealing the name of my informant. "Mr. Seabrook continued to pace the floor in an excited manner, stroking his long blonde beard rapidly and unconsciously. I still sat by the table, trying to appear the calm observer that I was not. He came and stood by me, saying: 'Do you believe this thing against me?' "'I do not know what to believe, Mr. Seabrook,' I replied, 'but something will have to be done about this rumor.' I could not bear to go on; but he understood me. He leaned over my chair, and touched my cheek with his: "'Are you my wife, or not?' he asked. I shuddered, and put my face down on my hands. He knelt by my side, and taking my hands in his, so that my face must be seen, asked me to look into his eyes and listen to him. What he said, was this: "'If I swear to you, by Almighty God, that you are my true and only wife, will you then believe me?'" Mrs. Greyfield was becoming visibly agitated by these reminiscences, and paused to collect herself. "You dared not say 'yes,'" I cried, carried away with sympathy, "and yet, you could not say 'no.' What did you do?" "I burst into a passion of tears, and cried convulsively. He would have caressed and consoled me, but I would have none of it. "'Anna, what a strange home-coming for a bridegroom!' he said, reproachfully. "'Go away, and leave me to myself,' I entreated; 'You must not stay here.'