"My sister!" Annabel faltered.
He trembled violently. He seemed to be labouring under some great
excitement.
"I am a fool," he said. "All these days I have taken her for you. I
have pleaded with her--no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain.
And all this time perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear
from me. Is it so, Annabel?"
"I did not know," she faltered, "anything about you. Why should I?"
"At last," he murmured, "at last I have found you. I must not let you
go again. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife."
"No," she moaned, "not that. I thought--the papers said----"
"You thought that I was dead," he interrupted. "You pushed the wheel
from my hand. You jumped, and I think that you left me. Yet you knew
that I was not dead. You came to see me in the hospital. You must have
repented a little, or you would not have done that."
"I did not come," she faltered. "It was my sister Anna. I had left
Paris."
He passed his hand wearily over his forehead.
"That is where I got confused," he said. "I opened my eyes, and she
was bending over my bedside. Then, I thought, she has repented, all
will be well. So I made haste and recovered. I came to London to look
for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up
with you. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!"
Annabel looked around her nervously.
"These are her rooms," she said. "Soon she will return."
"The sooner the better," he answered. "I must explain to her. Annabel,
I cannot believe it. I have found you."
His eyes were burning. He advanced a step towards her. She held out
both her hands.
"No, no," she cried. "You frighten me!"
He smiled at her indulgently.
"But I am your husband," he said. "You have forgotten. I am your
husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine."
"It was a mistake," she faltered. "You told me that your name was
Meysey Hill. I thought that you were he."
His face darkened.
"I did it for love of you," he said. "I lied, as I would have
committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. What
does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. I can keep you. You shall
have a house out at Balham or Sydenham, and two servants. You shall
have the spending of every penny of my money. Annabel, tell me that
you did not wish me dead. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me
again."
Her passion conquered for a moment her fear.