be done; the ship was wrecked."

"Were there any children?" she asked in a hard whisper.

"One; a baby of a year old. He was drowned with his mother."

Mrs. Hamlyn folded her hands one over the other, and leaned back in her
chair. "Why did you deceive me?"

"My will was good to deceive you for ever," he confessed with emotion.
"I hate that past episode in my life; hate to think of it: I wish I
could blot it out of remembrance. But for Pratt I should not have told
you now."

"Oh, he said you ought to tell me?"

"He did: and blamed me for not having told you already."

"Have you any more secrets of the past that you are keeping from me?"

"None. Not one. You may take my honour upon it, Eliza. And now let us--"

She had started forward in her chair; a red flush darkening her pale
cheeks, "Philip! Philip! am I legally married? Did you describe yourself
as a _bachelor_ in the license?"

"No, as a widower. I got the license in London, you know."

"And no one read it?"