She raised her eyes for a moment, and a slight shock seemed to affect her.
She was unconscious how long she delayed her reply.
'Can't you tell me ?' Richard said, with more roughness than he intended.
He was suffering, and suffering affected his temper.
Adela drew the letter from her pocket and in silence handed it to him.
He read it quickly, and, before the end was reached, had promptly chosen his course.
'What do you think of this ?' was his question, as he folded the letter and rolled it in his hand.

He was smiling, and enjoyed complete self-command.
'I cannot think,' fell from Adela's lips.

'I am waiting for jour words.' He noticed at length, now he was able to inspect her calmly, that she looked faint, pain-stricken.
'Alice told me who had written to you,' Richard pursued, in his frankest tones.

'It was well she saw the letter; you might have said nothing.' 'That would have been very unjust to you,' said Adela in a low regular voice.

'I could only have done that if--if I had believed it.' 'You don't altogether believe it, then ?' She looked at him with full eyes and made answer: 'You are my husband.' It echoed in his ears; not to many men does it fall to hear those words so spoken.