She had striven against herself, and against him, till her last
effort at resistance was exhausted. In reckless despair she let
the truth escape her at last.

"When do I ever think of anything else! I am a wretch unworthy of
all the kindness that has been shown to me. I don't deserve your
interest; I don't even deserve your pity. Send me away--be hard
on me--be brutal to me. Have some mercy on a miserable creature
whose life is one long hopeless effort to forget you!" Her voice,
her look, maddened him. He drew her to his bosom; he held her in
his arms; she struggled vainly to get away from him. "Oh," she
murmured, "how cruel you are! Remember, my dear one, remember how
young I am, how weak I am. Oh, Herbert, I'm dying--dying--dying!"
Her voice grew fainter and fainter; her head sank on his breast.
He lifted her face to him with whispered words of love. He kissed
her again and again.




The curtains over the library entrance moved noiselessly when
they were parted. The footsteps of Catherine Linley were
inaudible as she passed through, and entered the room.

She stood still for a moment in silent horror.

Not a sound warned them when she advanced. After hesitating for a
moment, she raised her hand toward her husband, as if to tell him
of her presence by a touch; drew it back, suddenly recoiling from
her own first intention; and touched Sydney instead.