"No; but you are driving me so!" she cried hoarsely. "I forgive you your infidelity, your unkindness--everything--the way in which you have wronged me. John--husband--for God's sake, for your own sake, be kind to me now. You do not know the temptation that is on me." "To run away and leave me?" he said mockingly. "Pray go." He stood glaring down at her for a moment, and then exclaimed, in a cold, cutting way: "Will you get me the things I want?" "Yes, yes, dear--yes, my own love!" she cried excitedly; "in one minute. But John, husband, my heart is nearly broken. I am maddened by my wrongs." He must have been mad himself, for as she clung to him he struck her again, more savagely this time, and, with a shudder running through her whole frame, she cowered on the floor. But it was only for the moment. She struggled up again, joining her hands together as she wailed once more: "I ask you again, for our dead babe's sake, John--husband--give me one kind word, and I will forgive all!" "Do you want to drive me wild!" he yelled savagely. "I am not John Huish--I am not your husband. Out of my sight, or--" He raised his hand again to strike her, but she did not flinch. She stood up, seeming as if turned to stone, and a sickly pallor appeared on her cheeks. "There, quick; get me the brandy! I have a long way to go." "Yes," she said quietly, as a low moan escaped her lips; "you have a long way to go." She fetched the brandy decanter and glass from the sideboard, placed them before him, and he poured out a goodly quantity, raised the glass, listened, and then put it down. "Who's below?" he said sharply, as he turned towards the door. "Jane Glyne," she said, moaning; and then once more she tried to clasp his neck. "What's the matter with you?" he cried mockingly, as he thrust her arm away, and, catching up the glass, he raised it to his lips. "No, no!" she cried, her coldness giving way to a look of horror; "don't drink it;" and she threw up her hands to seize the glass. But once more his hand fell heavily upon her, and she shrank away, covering her bruised face with her fingers, as he drained the glass and then dropped it, to shiver to atoms on the fender. "What! That brandy?" he cried, with his face convulsed. "What have you given me to drink?" "Death!" she said sternly, as she dropped her hands, to stare him full in the face. He caught at the mantelpiece and steadied himself, his lips parting, but no words came. Then, with his countenance changing horribly, he said in a hoarse whisper: "How long?" She grasped his meaning, and shook her head. He smiled, and swung himself to the table, caught the decanter in his hand, and stood pointing. "A glass--quick!"