And as if her self-condemnation were a further enchantment, her husband murmured: "It makes you all the lovelier that you should feel like that. It makes me more in love with you than ever: but forget it now. Let me make you forget it. I can.--Darling, your beautiful hair. I remember it;--it is as beautiful as ever.--I remember it;--it fell to your knees.--Let me see your face, Amabel." She was shuddering, shrinking from him.--"Oh--no--no.--Do you not see--not feel--that it is impossible--" "Impossible! Why?--My darling, you are my wife;--and if you love me?--" They were whirling impossibilities; she could see none clearly but one that flashed out for her now in her extremity of need, bright, ominous, accusing. She seized it:--"Augustine." "Augustine? What of him?" Sir Hugh's voice had an edge to it. "He could not bear it. It would break his heart." "What has he to do with it? He isn't all your life:--you've given him most of it already." "He is, he must be, all my life, except that beautiful part that you were:--that you are:--oh you will stay my friend!"-- "I'll stay your lover, your determined lover and husband, Amabel. Darling, you are ridiculous, enchanting--with your barriers, your scruples." The fear, the austerity, he felt in her fanned his ardour to flame. His arms once more went round her; he murmured words of lover-like pleading, rapturous, wild and foolish. And, though her love, her sacred love for him was there, his love for her was a nightmare to her now. She had lost herself, and it was as though she lost him, while he pleaded thus. And again and again she answered, resolute and tormented:--"No: no: never--never. Do not speak so to me.--Do not--I beg of you." Suddenly he released her. He straightened himself, and moved away from her a little. Someone had entered. Amabel dropped her hands and raised her eyes at last. Augustine stood before them. Augustine had on still his long travelling coat; his cap, beaded with raindrops, was in his hand; his yellow hair was ruffled. He had entered hastily. He stood there looking at them, transfixed, yet not astonished. He was very pale. For some moments no one of them spoke. Sir Hugh did not move further from his wife's side: he was neither anxious nor confused; but his face wore an involuntary scowl.