Had she come to tell me of my husband's death,--was my first agonized thought, and I faintly articulated,-- "'My husband!' "'_Your_ husband! Poor, deluded young creature.

Alas! alas! I can forgive him for deserting me, but not for deceiving and destroying you.' "I started to my feet with a galvanic spring.

My veins tingled as if fire were running through them, and my hair rose, startling with electric horror.

I grasped her arm with a force she might have felt through covering steel, and looking her steadfastly in the face, exclaimed,-- "'He _is_ my husband; mine in the face of God and man.

He is _my_ husband, and the father of my child.