before this woman. May be he was not the man he once was. Where was his
coolness? Where was his sneering, imperturbable manner, with which he
could have met, and would have met, any woman he had wronged, if he had
only been forewarned. He felt now that he must temporize, that he must
gain time. There was danger in Laura's tone. There was something
frightful in her calmness. Her steady eyes seemed to devour him.

"You have ruined my life," she said; "and I was so young, so ignorant,
and loved you so. You betrayed me, and left me mocking me and trampling
me into the dust, a soiled cast-off. You might better have killed me
then. Then I should not have hated you."

"Laura," said the Colonel, nerving himself, but still pale, and speaking
appealingly, "don't say that. Reproach me. I deserve it. I was a
scoundrel. I was everything monstrous. But your beauty made me crazy.
You are right. I was a brute in leaving you as I did. But what could I
do? I was married, and--"

"And your wife still lives?" asked Laura, bending a little forward in her
eagerness.

The Colonel noticed the action, and he almost said "no," but he thought
of the folly of attempting concealment.

"Yes. She is here."

What little color had wandered back into Laura's face forsook it again.
Her heart stood still, her strength seemed going from her limbs. Her
last hope was gone. The room swam before her for a moment, and the
Colonel stepped towards her, but she waved him back, as hot anger again