“No, dear, I don’t believe it,” Gorham finally answered her unfinished question.  “No power on earth could make me believe it until they proved it; and even then no power could take you from me.”

“But it must be proved one way or the other.”

“There will be no need,” Gorham replied, with a lightness he did not feel; “I will find this man and will settle it for all time.”

“How will you settle it, Robert?”

“He is doing this for money.  Now that he has come out into the open, I can take care of him.”

“But that won’t do, dear.  If there is any question about the divorce, your buying him off won’t settle it, will it?”

“It must,” was Gorham’s decisive answer.

“It can’t.”  Eleanor rose and regarded him with an infinite tenderness.  “It can’t, Robert; you know it can’t, dear.  If the divorce is not legal, then there was no marriage between us, and what Ralph Buckner says or does cannot affect that.  We must know the facts now, dear.”

“In all probability the divorce was perfectly regular.  It is questioned now purely for blackmailing purposes; but I will submit to that, if necessary, rather than have the matter go any further.  Don’t be quixotic and play into the hands of these scoundrels who have gotten hold of Buckner, and are trying to reach me through you, knowing well that this is my vulnerable point.”

Mrs. Gorham was so long silent that her husband felt his argument had won.

“Eleanor,” he said more calmly, “can you ever fully realize what you are to me?  All these gigantic transactions which have fallen to my lot mean only so many contests with the world that I may bring my victories back to you.  The struggle is inspiring, the strife is intoxicating while it is on, but how hollow the successes except for you!  My life and all its activities are centred about this one inmost shrine in which I mean to keep you, unsullied by even the implied contamination which these blackmailers would bring upon you.  I will fight them with their own weapons, and, thank God, I can ward off the blow.”

“Robert—­my Robert!” Mrs. Gorham’s voice was low but masterful in the force which lay behind the words.  “Nothing can ever come to me so bitter as to make me forget that this has caused you to say what you have just said.  You mean every word, and to have won such devotion from such a man is enough to make any woman’s life complete.  But it is your heart which speaks, and our sober judgment must acknowledge without a question the necessity of settling beyond the reach of doubt the validity of the legal tie which binds us.  We need no court to settle the question of our love, my Robert—­that is the real marriage which I know God only recognizes; but there can be no happiness for us if we disregard even for a moment those conventions which are necessary to our every-day life.  You know it, dear, just as I do.”

“It is unnecessary, Eleanor—­it is unwise.  We are so certain that there is no real basis for doubt.”