Harriet, I command you! Show me that note!" The eyes of Captain Hunsden's daughter inflamed up fierce and bright at sound of that imperious word command.
"And I don't choose to be commanded--not if you were my king as well as my husband.

You shall never see it now!" There was a wood-fire leaping up on the marble hearth.
She flung the note impetuously as she spoke into the midst of the flames.

One bright jet of flame, and it was gone.
Husband and wife stood facing each other, he deathly white, she flushed and defiant.
"And this is the woman I loved--the wife I trusted--my bride of one short month." He had turned to quit the room, but two impetuous arms were around his neck, two impulsive lips covering his face with penitent, imploring kisses.
"Forgive me--forgive me!" Harriet cried.

"My dear, my true, my cherished husband! Oh, what a wicked, ungrateful creature I am! What a wretch you must think me! And I can not--I can not--I can not tell you." She broke out suddenly into a storm of hysterical crying, clinging to his neck.
He took her in his arms, sat down with her on the sofa, and let her sob herself still.
"And now, Harriet," he said, when the hysterical sobs were hushed, "who is this man, and what is he to you ?" "He is nothing to me--less than nothing! I hate him!" "Where did you know him before ?" "Know him before ?" She sat up and looked him half angrily in the face.
"I never knew him before! I never set eyes on him until I saw him here." Sir Everard drew a long breath of relief.

No one could doubt her truth, and his worst suspicion was at rest.
"Then what is this secret between you two?
For there is a secret, Harriet." "There is." "What is it, Harriet ?" "I can not tell you." "Harriet!" "I can not." She turned deathly white as she said it.