I saw Major Fitz-David, I saw the table on which the singing girl had opened the book to show it to me.

I saw the girl herself, sitting alone in a corner, with her handkerchief to her eyes as if she were crying.

In one mysterious moment my memory recovered its powers.

The recollection of that fatal title-page came back to me in all its horror.

The one feeling that it roused in me now was a longing to see my husband--to throw myself into his arms, and tell him how firmly I believed in his innocence, how truly and dearly I loved him.