"
"True. Nothing can excuse it. But you must be merciful. The man loved
you passionately."
"Mr. Ingelow," opening her eyes wild and wide, "are you pleading Doctor
Oleander's case?"
"No, Mollie--the case of the man who loved you so madly, so recklessly,
that the thought of your being another's--another's whom you did not
love--drove him to insanity, and to the commission of an insane deed."
"And that man was Doctor Oleander."
"It was not!"
"Mr. Ingelow!"
"No, Mollie; never Guy Oleander. He hadn't the pluck. He never cared for
you enough."
"But he did it twice."
"Once only--this last time--stung, goaded into it by the lash of Mrs.
Walraven's waspish tongue. But he is not the man who married you,
whoever that man may be. At least," cooling down suddenly, as he saw the
full blue eyes fixed upon him with piercing intentness, "I don't believe
it."
"What do you believe, then, Mr. Ingelow?" Mollie said, slowly and
suspiciously.
"That when you made Miriam the confidante of your story, on a certain
night in your bedroom, Mrs. Carl Walraven overheard you.
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