“This, then, was the position at Westmacotts’ while I toiled at Ephesus and received with such wide-spaced regularity little packets of seed from Ruth. The situation developed rapidly at a date corresponding to the time when MacPherson fell ill with cholera. It was then three months since Westmacott, by going to the attic, had made the first concession to his creeping cowardice. He was looking ill, Ruth told me; his eyes were bright, and she thought he slept badly at night. Her questioning him on this subject precipitated the crisis. “‘Rawdon, you’re looking feverish.’ “‘Oh, no,’ he said nervously. They were at breakfast. “‘Ay, dad,’ said the eldest boy, ‘I heard you tossing about last night.’ “Ruth turned on him with that bullying instinct that she could not control, and asked roughly,— “‘What do you mean by keeping the children awake?’ “He cowered away, and she went on, her voice rising,— “‘I won’t have it, do you hear? If you can’t sleep quietly here, you can go and sleep elsewhere—in the stable, for all I care.’ “He didn’t answer, he only watched her, huddled in his chair—yes, huddled, that tall, lithe figure—watched her with a sidelong glance of his almond eyes. “She went on storming at him; she says she felt like a person speaking the words dictated to her by somebody else, and indeed you know Ruth well enough to know that this description doesn’t tally with your impression of her. “He was fingering a tea-spoon all the while, now looking down at it, now stealing that oblique glance at his wife, but never saying a word. She cried to him,— “‘Let that spoon alone, can’t you?’ and as she spoke she stretched out her hand to take it from him. He bent swiftly forward and snapped at her hand like a hungry wolf. “The children screamed, and Ruth sprang to her feet. Rawdon was already on his feet, over in the corner, holding a chair, reversed, in front of him. “‘Don’t you come near me,’ he gibbered, ‘don’t you dare to come near me. You said you nearly stopped me once’—oh little seed sown ten years ago!—‘but by Hell you shan’t do it again. I’ll kill you first, ay, and all your children with you, cursed brats! how am I to know they’re mine?’ and a stream of foul language followed. “Ruth had recovered herself, she stood on the other side of the room, with all her frightened children clinging round her. “‘I think you must be mad, Rawdon,’ she said, as coldly as she could. “‘And if I am,’ he cried, ‘who’s driven me to it? Isn’t it you? making my life a hell, spying on me, chasing me even to my bed at night, ready to pounce on me the moment you get a chance? Oh, you hate me, I know; it’s that other man you want, you’ve had your fill of me. Oh, you false, lying vixen, you’re just waiting till you can get me—catch me asleep, likely; what was you doing in my room that night? The woman who can shoot at a man once can shoot at him twice. Mad, you say I am? No, I’m not mad, but ’tis not your fault that I wasn’t mad long ago.’