“Two minutes after that you came to me, and before you left my side I was your promised wife. Oh, Abel! was I wrong? Was my father misled by his love for his child? Was I deceived by my love for you? Oh, Abel! was I wrong? I knew my father’s strict, punctilious sense of honor. I had seen many instances of it. He had been a wealthier man had he been a less fastidiously honorable one. How could I believe that he would sanction a dishonorable concealment of my story, even to secure my own happiness? “I could not believe this of my father. And yet I doubted—I doubted. And this concealment never did secure my happiness, but has burdened and darkened and sickened my soul for twenty years. “You remember it was arranged that we should be married at Myrtle Grove. “We all went to London together. You took apartments at Langham’s. We went down to Myrtle Grove, where you were to meet us, a fortnight later, for the wedding. “And what did I do at Myrtle Grove? Prepare for my wedding? “No! I passed but one day there, and then I hurried down into Kent and to the dairy farm to see my boy, whom I had not seen for many months. “I carried loads of toys, pets, sweetmeats, presents of all sorts—ah! as if gifts could compensate a child for family recognition, for mother’s love. “I found the boy in high health, happy in his surroundings, in his foster-parents’ affections, and in his foster-brother’s companionship. I spent nearly the whole fortnight preceding my marriage with my child in Kent. “Two days before the one appointed for the wedding I took leave of my boy, half heartbroken at the forced separation, yet comforted with the knowledge that he at least was well and happy, and that he would be faithfully nursed by Mary Chester, and carefully looked after by my father, who had promised to adopt and educate him, and to bring him to see me at intervals. “I returned to Myrtle Grove, having made no preparations for our marriage, which you know was a strictly private one at the parish church, with only my father to give me away, and my brother and the parish clerk for witnesses. “After the wedding, you remember, we took leave of my dear father, who promised to visit us the ensuing spring, but who never kept his promise, because he died suddenly of heart disease during that winter.” CHAPTER XXXIX A CLOUDED HONEYMOON “We went down to Liverpool and sailed for America, to commence our new life on your Maryland plantation. “But, oh, Abel! with a burden of sorrow and remorse on my heart and conscience which has oppressed and darkened all my days.