A white face, marked with the most intense suffering, was uplifted to the
gaze of the young girl.
"Are you August Bordine's wife?"
Rose put the question hotly, so full of indignation as scarcely to
contain herself in calmness.
"His wife?"
"Yes."
"I am Andrew Barkswell's wife, I do not know the parson you mention."
"Indeed! So he has more than one name, the infamous wretch!"
Then, with a great sobbing cry, Rose Alstine turned and fled from the
place, dropping her veil to hide the haggard woe that reveled on her
countenance. Slowly Barkswell come back into the presence of his wife.
"And it is thus you would betray me," he said in an angry tone. "Iris, I
am sorry that you are determined to ruin me."
"Ruin you?"
"That is the word."
"How can you talk that way, Andrew, you who have made my life a hell
since the hour I first met and loved you. It was that mad and hopeless
love that has led me to do things that, if they were known, would shock
the minds of men.
"You know how I have suffered to please you, Barkswell. I almost feel
that it would be a relief to end all in death.
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