Our plantation was not far from the seashore.
In a creek the Prince had anchored his yacht.
Denham was making my husband jealous, and my life became unbearable.
Oh!"—she threw up her arms—"not even the years of peace that I have had can obliterate the memory of that terrible time." And she wept.
Still, Ware did not interrupt, thinking it best that she should not be questioned too much.
With a great effort she controlled herself, and resumed her pitiful story.
"One night," she went on in a low voice, "the climax came.
The Prince had been to dinner. He had to go, because George was so violent.
Denham had got my husband to drink, and his paroxysms of anger became terrible.
The Prince wanted to stop to protect me, but I asked him to go.
It was a rainy night, a violent thunderstorm was going on.
I locked myself in the nursery, to protect myself from the fury of George.
He came to the door and broke it down." She paused, and her voice leaped an octave. "George turned me out into the rain."
"Great God!
Did he go that far?"
She was on her feet by this time pacing the room.
"He turned me out into the stormy night.
I fled from his fury, drenched with rain.
At the gates of the gardens round the house I met with the Prince. He had been hanging round the place fearful for my life.
He implored me to come on board the yacht and stop the night.
I was almost distracted with terror and anger.
I went." She paused again. "From that moment I was lost."
"It was not your fault," Giles assured her.
"No; it was not my husband's fault either, but the fault of that wicked wretch Denham.
He came the next morning, guessing where I had gone in my distress. He brought a note from George, who bade me go with my lover, the Prince.
It was a lie.
The Prince was no lover of mine then.
I demanded to see my child, but George refused.
It was all Denham—Denham.
George was under the thumb of the wretch.
The Prince behaved like an honorable gentleman, and spoke up for me.
But it was all of no use.
George was determined to have a divorce."
"You mean Denham was determined to have one," corrected Giles.
"Yes, yes.
He was the one who ruined me.
Then the Prince said he would make me his wife as soon as the decree was pronounced.
I agreed.
What else could I do?
My child was refused to me.
I was blamed by every one, and the whole island was against me.
I sailed for Europe in Prince Karacsay's yacht.
A few months later the decree was pronounced, and he made me his wife. Since then I have been happy—that is as happy as I could be, knowing that my child was lost."
"Did you make inquiries about her?"
"Some years later I did.
Then I learned that George, with the child and Denham, had sailed for Europe. The vessel was wrecked.
The report said that George Franklin and his child were saved. Denham's name was given as one who was drowned.
I rejoiced when I saw that punishment had overtaken my enemy."
"But Denham was not drowned."
"No; it was George who met with that death.