It was a principle of Mr. McDonald never to lose his presence of mind or
his temper, or the smooth, low tone of voice he had cultivated years ago
and practiced since with so good effect. And now, though he understood
the state of matters at once and knew that Guy had heard the worst, he
did not seem ruffled in the slightest degree, and his voice was just as
kind and sweet as ever as he bade Guy good-morning and advanced to shake
his hand. But Guy would not take it. He had always disliked and
distrusted Mr. McDonald, and he felt intuitively that whatever harm had
befallen him had come through the oily-tongued, insinuating man who
stood smilingly before him. With a gesture of disgust he turned away
from the offered hand, and in a voice husky with suppressed excitement,
asked: "What does all this mean, that when, after a separation of months, I
come for my wife I am told that she is not my wife--that there has been
a--a divorce?"
Guy had brought himself to name the horrid thing, and the very sound of
the word served to make it more real and clear to his mind, and there
were great drops of sweat upon his forehead and about his mouth as he
asked what it meant.
"Oh, Guy, don't feel so badly. Tell him, father, I did not do it," Daisy
cried, as she stood leaning over the stair-rail and looking down at the
wretched man.
"Daisy, go to your room. You should not have seen him at all," Mr.
McDonald said, with more sternness of manner than was usual for him.
Then, turning to Guy, he continued: "Come in here, Mr. Thornton, where we can be alone while I explain to
you what seems so mysterious now."
They went together into the little parlor, and for half an hour or more
the sound of their voices was distinctly heard as Mr. McDonald tried to
explain what there really was no explanation or excuse for. Daisy was
not contented at Elmwood, and though she complained of nothing, she was
not happy as a married woman, and was glad to be free again. That was
all, and Guy understood at last that Daisy was his no longer; that the
law which was a disgrace to the State in which it existed had divorced
him from his wife without his knowledge or consent, and for no other
reason than incompatibility of temperament, and a desire on Daisy's part
to be free from the marriage tie. Not a word had been said of Guy's
altered fortunes, but he felt that his comparative poverty was really
the cause of this great wrong, and for a few moments resentment and
indignation prevailed over every other feeling; then, when he remembered
the little blue-eyed, innocent-faced girl whom he had loved so much and
thought so good and true, he laid his head upon the sofa arm and groaned
bitterly, while the man who had ruined him sat coolly by, citing to him
many similar cases where divorces had been procured without the
knowledge of the absent party. It was a common--a very common thing, he
said, and reflected no disgrace upon either party where there was no
criminal charge. Daisy was too young and childish anyway, and ought not
to have been married for several years, and it was really quite as much
a favor to Guy as a wrong. He was free again--free to marry if he
liked--he had taken care to see to that, so-"Stop!" Guy almost thundered out. "There is a point beyond which you
shall not go. Be satisfied with taking Daisy from me, and do not insult
me with talk of a second marriage. Had I found Daisy dead it would have
hurt me less than this fearful wrong you have done. I say you, for I
charge it all to you. Daisy could have had no part in it, and I ask to
see her and hear from her own lips that she accepts the position in
which you and your diabolical laws have placed her before I am willing
to give her up. Call her, will you?"