"I tell you," she said. "I am tired of life--of you--of everything. I have nothing to live for--nothing to gain by living!" Her voice was the voice of a woman driven to desperation by the fear that her secret should become known. "Well," he laughed brutally, "you've certainly nothing to gain by dying, my dear." "You taunt me!" she cried in anger. "You who hold me irrevocably in this bond of guilt--you who compel me to act as your accomplice in these vile schemes! I hate you!" "Without a doubt," he responded, with a short laugh. "And yet I have done nothing to arouse this feeling of antagonism." "Nothing! Do you then think so lightly of all the past?" "My dear girl," he said, "one should never think of what has gone by. It's a bad habit. Look to your own safety, and to the future." "La Gioia is here!" she repeated in a low voice, as though unable to fully realise all that the terrible announcement meant. "Well, how do you intend to act?" "My actions will be guided by circumstances," he replied. "And you?" She was silent. The stillness of the night was broken only by the dismal cry of a night-bird down near the lake. "I think it is best that I should die and end it all," she replied, in a hard, strained voice. "Don't talk such nonsense!" he said impatiently. "You are young, graceful, smart, with one of the prettiest faces in London. And you would commit suicide. The thing is utterly absurd!" "What have I to gain by living?" she inquired again, that question being apparently uppermost in her mind. "You love young Chetwode. You may yet marry him." "No," she answered with a sigh; "I fear that can never be. Happiness can never be mine--never." "Does he love you?" inquired the Major, with a note of sympathy in his voice. "Love me? Why, of course he does." "You have never doubted him?" "Never." "And he has asked you to marry him?" "Yes, a dozen times." "When was the last occasion?" "To-night--an hour ago." "And you, of course, refused?" "Of course." "Why?" "Because of the barrier which prevents my marriage with him." "And you will allow that to stand in the way of your safety?" "My safety!" she echoed. "I don't understand." "Cannot you see that if you married Cyril Chetwode at once, La Gioia would be powerless?" "Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, impressed by the suggestion. "I had never thought of that?" "Well," he went on, "if you take my advice, you'll lose no time in becoming Chetwode's wife. Then you can defy your enemies, and snap your fingers at La Gioia." A deep silence fell. The woman who was my wife was reflecting. "You say that by marriage I could defy my enemies; but that is incorrect. I could not cut myself free of all of them." "Why? Whom would you fear?" "You yourself," she answered bluntly. "You have no confidence in me," he protested with a dissatisfied air. "I can have no confidence in one who holds me enslaved as you do."