CONFIDENCE
"You have seen it with your own eyes. You know all about it, and I needn't tell you."
"My dear Mr. Wright," said Angela pleadingly, turning round, "in heaven's name, don't say that!"
"Why shouldn't I say it? I came here on purpose to say it. I came here with an intention—with a plan. You know what Blanche is—you needn't pretend, for kindness to me, that you don't. You know what a precious, what an inestimable wife she must make me—how devoted, how sympathetic she must be, and what a household blessing at every hour of the day. Bernard can tell you all about us—he has seen us in the sanctity of our home." Gordon gave a bitter laugh and went on, with the same strange, serious air of explaining his plan. "She despises me, she hates me, she cares no more for me than for the button on her glove; by which I mean that she doesn't care a hundredth part as much. You may say that it serves me right, and that I have got what I deserve. I married her because she was silly. I wanted a silly wife; I had an idea you were too wise. Oh, yes, that's what I thought of you; Blanche knew why I picked her out, and undertook to supply the article required. Heaven forgive her! She has certainly kept her engagement. But you can imagine how it must have made her like me—knowing why I picked her out. She has disappointed me all the same. I thought she had a heart; but that was a mistake. It doesn't matter, though, because everything is over between us."
"What do you mean, everything is over?" Bernard demanded.
"Everything will be over in a few weeks. Then I can speak to Miss Vivian seriously."
"Ah! I am glad to hear this is not serious," said Bernard.
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