One winter evening, Richard sitting brooding and sipping brandy as usual, with a lamp burning on the table beside him, and the embers of the fire flickering on the broad hearth at his feet, there came a light, measured step and the rustle of a dress, and he knew that his wife was in the room. He raised his haggard visage and looked at her. What a goddess of beauty she seemed! How young, graceful, lovely! How pure and clear were the tints of her face, how lustrous dark her eyes, how soft her ample hair! How peerless she was! and all she was--all this treasure of fragrant womanhood--was his, and not another's. Ay, and his willingly; she really loved him, he thought; she had shown it of late; she cared for him, old, ruined, and degraded though he was. It was a strange thing; it was a pleasant thing. Perhaps, he thought, if he had had such a creature to love him in earlier days, he might not have been where he was now. But then, in earlier days, he was not a ruined and wasted man. "Kate!" "Yes, Richard." "Oh, never speak so formally! Am I not Dick, thy own dear old Dick--eh?" "I did not mean to be formal." "Come and sit here beside me--no, here, on the arm of my chair. It was good of you to come in here. I was getting lonesome. I wanted my Kate to tell me she loved me--eh?" "I only came in to say good-night. It is late." "Late?--pooh! It's not nine o'clock. Stay and be sociable a bit. There, I won't touch another drop if you'll stay." "I'm tired; I have a headache. You don't want me." "Not want you! Ay, but I do though! Without you, Kate, I should have been a dead man weeks ago. Not want you!" "Nonsense! what do you mean? You have drunk too much already, I fear." "I mean that, but for you, I'd have blown my brains out the day of the trial--after I'd blown out his, the scoundrel! But since I have you, I know a way to worry him better than by blowing his brains out. To know that you are mine is hell to him. And in that hell I'll keep him, as long as my body and soul will hang together!" "What should he care whether I am yours or not?" "Because he loves you--that's why he cares! Ay, you needn't start. He loves you, and it's hell to him to feel that another man has you. How many thousand pounds do you think he'd give to kiss this little hand as I kiss it now? I wish he could see me do it!" "Nonsense, you are crazy.... And so you only care for me to spite him?" "No, not that. God knows--if there is a God--I love you, Kate, with all there is left of me--except what hates him! That's my life--love for you and hate for him. And I believe I hate him less than I love you, though that's saying a great deal!" "Oh, I think you love that brandy better than you do me." "You do? If you say so, I'll never touch it again!" "Oh, I don't care. I don't want you to give up anything that makes you comfortable." "Ay, you do love me, don't you, Kate?" "Come, Richard, our courting days are over. And I must go. Good-by!"