"I know what you thought," he said. "I know what you tried to do. It was praiseworthy in many respects... But it was too late. If you would fashion the clay into a goodly shape you should hasten to do so while it is pliable. When once it is set you can only break it." "You always make me feel," she said, without changing her position, "that I am directly responsible for the waste of your life." "I don't admit that my life stands for waste," he replied coldly. She lifted her face, and turning it slightly looked steadily in his direction. "Perhaps," she said, "I am not qualified to judge. I only judge from what I see--from what I know you might have done if only you had willed it. And now--" She looked away from him, and once more dropped her face upon her hand. "Hugh," she said, and her voice was so low as to be scarcely louder than a whisper, "I asked you to come here to-night, because I felt that there was much in the past on my side that needed your forgiveness. I was hard... I see that now... When you wanted sympathy I failed you. And things happened to separate us. Perhaps it was less your fault than I imagined. But--there are certain things a woman finds it difficult to pardon." "I have never blamed you," he interposed harshly. He too got up, but he did not follow her. He stood leaning against one of the windows with his back to the outer air. "I have blamed myself," she answered gently,--"often." "You would," he said. "You're made like that. You'd bow your back to any burden you believed it to be your duty to bear. But you needn't imagine it your especial mission to undertake any burden on my account. I wish from the bottom of my soul you could bring yourself to forget my existence." "I can't do that," she answered... "I don't want to." She moved from her position and came to a standstill in front of him with her hands locked together in an attitude that was like a supplication in the nervous entwining of her fingers. "I want you to lead a life more worthy of yourself," she said... "worthier of the man I knew and loved. Oh, my dear! if you only knew how all these years you have been steadily breaking my heart... I can't bear it... I can't bear it, that you should lead the life you are leading... You are going back to that woman to-morrow... I know it. Give her up, Hugh,--and this life of adventure,--for my sake--because I ask it. Don't go to-morrow. I hate the thought of your going... Stay here." "Impossible," he answered with quiet decision. "I am pledged. I must go. I have no choice in the matter." Her hands fell apart. She made a quick, almost a despairing gesture.