"Yes, it would be well," she said. She rose and came a little way towards him. "There's no help for it. I can't escape from you. I'm bound to you in bonds I can't loosen. I've tried. I've stood at nothing. I wish to Heaven I could! Going back is like going back to death. But perhaps he's right. Better my living death than the thing you meant to do." She paused and ended: "I'll go back to the child, but I will not come back to you." "You give all I've asked," said Grantley with cold politeness. She looked round at young Blake with a pitiful smile. "It's the only way, my dear. With this man what he is, it's the only way. I must leave you alone." Blake leaned towards her with a passionate cry of pain. She reasoned gently with him. "But you know the alternative--you've heard it. We can't help it. This man is capable of doing it, and he would find out a way. I don't see that we could do anything at all to stop him. Then when you heard it, it would be so terrible to you. You'd hate yourself. Oh, and, my dear, I think you'd hate me! And I couldn't bear that. No, you must be reasonable. There's no other way." Blake hid his face in his hands. He made no further effort. He knew that her words were true. Sibylla walked into the bedroom, leaving the two alone. Neither now moved nor spoke. The storm outside seemed to have abated, for the rain dashed no more against the windows, and the wind was not howling round the walls of the house. It was very still. Grantley Imason presently began to button his coat, and then to dust the wet off his hat with his coat sleeve. Sibylla came back in her hat and cloak. "We must get something to carry you," said Grantley. "I wonder if we could raise a cart here!" "How did you come?" "I rode over." "I don't want a cart. I shall walk beside your horse." "Impossible! At this time of night! And such a night!" "I shall walk--I must walk! I can't sit in a cart and----" Her gesture explained the rest. Struggling along on foot, she might keep her wits. Madness lay in sitting and thinking. "As you will," said Grantley. She had begun to draw on her gloves; but when she looked at Blake she drew them quickly off again, and thrust them into a pocket of her cloak. She walked past Grantley to Blake, and took hold of both his hands. Bending over him, she kissed him twice. "Thank you for having loved me, Walter," she said. "Good-bye." Blake said nothing. He held her hands and looked up imploringly in her face. Then she disengaged herself from his grasp and turned round to her husband. "I'm ready," she said. "Let us go." Grantley bowed slightly, went to the door, and opened it for her. She looked back once at Blake, murmuring: "For having loved me, Walter," and kissed her hand to him. With no sign of impatience Grantley waited. Himself he took no heed of Blake, but followed Sibylla out of the room in unbroken silence.