The swiftness with which Henry drove by could not hide from his wife the striking resemblance of the child to himself.
The young wife had heard the child exclaim "Papa! papa!" and she immediately saw by the quivering of his lips and the agitation depicted in his countenance, that all was not right.
"Who is that woman?
and why did that child call you papa ?" she inquired, with a trembling voice.
Henry was silent; he knew not what to say, and without another word passing between them, they drove home.
On reaching her room, Gertrude buried her face in her handkerchief and wept.

She loved Henry, and when she had heard from the lips of her companions how their husbands had proved false, she felt that he was an exception, and fervently thanked God that she had been so blessed.
When Gertrude retired to her bed that night, the sad scene of the day followed her.

The beauty of Isabella, with her flowing curls, and the look of the child, so much resembling the man whom she so dearly loved, could not be forgotten; and little Clotelle's exclamation of "Papa! papa!" rang in her ears during the whole night.
The return of Henry at twelve o'clock did not increase her happiness.
Feeling his guilt, he had absented himself from the house since his return from the ride..