“I blame you bitterly,” he said, folding his arms together tightly and towering before her. “Yes, you shall hear what I think of you. He says he has nothing against you, but I have everything against you! If you had not a heart to bring with you, and some kind of tenderness, why did you come out here? No one made you come. You could have stayed at home if you had chosen. That would have been better than this. But to come and give him nothing but scorn, and throw his failure in his face, and make him feel that you despise him for not having done better in the old country--I tell you that you are the one to be despised.” “It is not your part to talk to me like this,” she said, interrupting him fiercely. “You are not my judge.” “And yet I do judge you,” he flung out fearlessly, and then he glanced at her, and stopped short in the very heat of his anger and resentment, for her face wore a terribly strained expression of pain, and his gentler feelings were aroused even at that moment. “Ah, well,” he said, “words are not of much use after all. I am so deeply sorry for him, and for you too--there is nothing I would not do to set things right for you both.” His kinder manner softened her at once. “I never meant to speak to him as I did this afternoon,” she said. “I don’t know how it was that I could not control myself better, but I was just wild with regret, and the music had stirred me up to such a pitch that the words came tumbling out of their own accord; and after it was all over, and he had gone, I stood there horrified with myself, and terrified for him, because I knew he cared so much. And that has been the awful part of it all through: he has cared so much, and I seemed to have cared so little. Oh, you don’t realise how I’ve tried to take up this life. Day after day I’ve begun over again and struggled to put from me the dull feeling of depression, but it came back ten times worse, until I’ve been in despair. Naturally enough you have only seen the one side, but you would not think so harshly of me if you’d known how I have tried, and how everything has been against the grain.” He turned to her with something of his old kind bearing. “I know you have tried,” he said slowly; and some of the pain passed from her face when he spoke these words. “I think I would like to see if he is still sleeping,” she said, almost pleadingly. Ben pointed to the bedroom door. “Don’t rouse him,” he said. “If he sleeps long and heavily, he may wake refreshed. But I think he is very ill. He has just had one of his fainting fits, and an obstinate one too, and his state of exhaustion afterwards has made me horribly anxious.” She turned pale, and went softly into the bedroom. She came back in a few minutes, and found Ben preparing supper. He looked up at her eagerly, and was relieved when she told him that Robert was still sleeping soundly, and that she had not lingered lest she might disturb him.