And yet--_she was not his wife!_ He groaned aloud, and his fingers dug into the flesh of his knees as he thought of that.

Could he keep that terrible truth from her?
If she went with him into the North, would she not guess?
And, even though he kept the truth from her until Mortimer FitzHugh was dead, would he be playing fair with her?
Again he went over all that he had gone over before.

He knew that Joanne would leave him to-morrow, and probably forever, if he told her that FitzHugh was alive.

The law could not help him, for only death--and never divorce--would free her.

Within himself he decided for the last time.