But at last Dacres staked every thing on the issue, and asked it: 

“Arethusa! oh, Arethusa! do you—­do you love—­the—­the Italian?”

“The Italian!” said Mrs. Willoughby—­“love the Italian! me!” and then in a moment she thought that this was his delirium, and she must humor it.  “Poor fellow!” she sighed again; “how he fought them! and no doubt he has had fearful blows on his head.”

“Do you? do you?  Oh, answer, I implore you!” cried Dacres.

“No!” said Mrs. Willoughby, solemnly.  “I hate him as I never hated man before,” She spoke her mind this time, although she thought the other was delirious.

A sigh of relief and of happiness came from Dacres, so deep that it was almost a groan.

“And oh,” he continued, “tell me this—­have you ever loved him at all?”

“I always disliked him excessively,” said Mrs. Willoughby, in the same low and solemn tone.  “I saw something bad—­altogether bad—­in his face.”

“Oh, may Heaven forever bless you for that word!” exclaimed Dacres, with such a depth of fervor that Mrs. Willoughby was surprised.  She now believed that he was intermingling dreams with realities, and tried to lead him to sense by reminding him of the truth.

“It was Minnie, you know, that he was fond of.”

“What!  Minnie Fay?”

“Yes; oh yes.  I never saw any thing of him.”

“Oh, Heavens!” cried Dacres; “oh, Heavens, what a fool, beast, villain, and scoundrel I have been!  Oh, how I have misjudged you!  And can you forgive me?  Oh, can you?  But no—­you can not.”

At this appeal Mrs. Willoughby was startled, and did not know what to say or to do.  How much of this was delirium and how much real she could not tell.  One thing seemed evident to her, and that was that, whether delirious or not, he took her for another person.  But she was so full of pity for him, and so very tenderhearted, that her only idea was to “humor” him.

“Oh,” he cried again, “can this all be true, and have all my suspicions been as mad as these last?  And you—­how you have changed!  How beautiful you are!  What tenderness there is in your glance—­what a pure and gentle and touching grace there is in your expression!  I swear to you, by Heaven!  I have stood gazing at you in places where you have not seen me, and thought I saw heaven in your face, and worshiped you in my inmost soul.  This is the reason why I have followed you.  From the time I saw you when you came into the room at Naples till this night I could not get rid of your image.  I fought against the feeling, but I can not overcome it.  Never, never were you half so dear as you are now!”

Now, of course, that was all very well, considered as the language of an estranged husband seeking for reconciliation with an estranged wife; but when one regards it simply as the language of a passionate lover directed to a young and exceedingly pretty widow, one will perceive that it was not all very well, and that under ordinary circumstances it might create a sensation.