“James, I--I would not have carried out my plan. I had faltered, and my cause was lost. What have I accomplished? Am I able to gloat over you? What have I wrought, after all? I weakened under the love she bore for you, I permitted it to creep in and fill my heart. Do you understand? I do not hate you now. It is something to know that you have worshipped her all these years. You were true to her. What you did long, long ago was not your fault. You believed that she had wronged you. But you went on loving her. That is what weakened my resolve. You loved her to the end, she loved you to the end. Well, in the face of that, could I go on hating you? You must have been worthy of her love. She knew you better than all the world. You came to me with love for her in your heart. You took me, and you loved her all the time. I am not sure, James, that you are not entitled to this miserable, unhappy love I have come to feel for you--my own love, not Matilde's.” “You are saying this so that I may refrain from throwing you out into the street------” “No!” she cried, coming to her feet. “I shall ask nothing of you. If I am to go, it shall be because I have failed. I have been a blind, vainglorious fool. The trap has caught me instead of you, and I shall take the consequences. I have lost everything!” “You have lost _everything_,” said he steadily. “'You despise me?” “I cannot ask you to stay here after this.” “But I shall not go. I have a duty to perform before I leave this house. I intend to save the life of that poor boy downstairs, so that he may not die believing me to be an evil woman, a faithless wife. Thank God, I have accomplished something! You know that he is your son. You know that my sister was as pure as snow. You know that you killed her, and that she loved you in spite of the death you brought to her. That is something.” Brood dropped into the chair and buried his face on his quivering arms. In muffled tones came the cry from his soul: “They've all said that he is like me. I have seen it at times, but I would not believe. I fought against it resolutely, madly, cruelly! Now it is too late and I _see!_ I see, I feel! You curse of mankind, you have driven me to the killing of my own son!” She stood over him, silent for a long time, her hand hovering above his head. “He is not going to die,” she said at last, when she was sure that she had full command of her voice. “I can promise you that, James. I shall not go from this house until he is well. I shall nurse him to health and give him back to you and Matilde, for now I know that he belongs to both of you and not to her alone. Now, James, you may go down to him. He is not conscious. He will not hear you praying at his bedside. He------”