The golden head fell forward on her breast.

He noticed that in her agitation and sorrow she did not cling to him as she had clung before--that she did not even touch him.

She seemed by instinct to understand that she was his wife now in name only.
So for some minutes they sat, while the sunset glowed in the west.

He was the first to speak.
"My dear Madaline," he said, "my poor wife"-- his voice seemed to startle her into new life and new pain--"I would rather have died than have given you this pain." "I know it--I am sure of it," she said, "but, oh, Norman, how can I release you ?" "There is happily no question about that," he answered.
He saw her rise from her seat and stretch out her arms.
"What have I done," she cried, "that I must suffer so cruelly?
What have I done ?" "Madaline," said Lord Arleigh, "I do not think that so cruel a fate has ever befallen any one as has befallen us.

I do not believe that any one has ever suffered so cruelly, my darling.