"Yes, she loves you--if you mean that. But--I agree with her." "Agree with her how?" "That the barrier is too great. You would end by hating her," said Cicely. "I'm the judge of that! If any one hates her, it is you; you constantly torture her, you are merciless." "She shot my husband." "She shot your murderer! Another moment and Ferdie might have killed you." "And if I preferred it? At any rate, _she_ had no right to interfere," cried Cicely, springing up. "Why were you running away from him, then, if you preferred it? You fled to her room, and asked for help; you begged her to come out with you." "It was on account of baby," answered Cicely, her voice like that of a little girl, her breast beginning to heave. "And she saved your child's life a second time--on Lake Superior." "I know it--I know it. But you cannot expect--" "I expect nothing; you are absolutely unreasonable, and profoundly selfish." "I'm not selfish. I only want to make her suffer!" cried Cicely, with sparkling eyes. Paul looked at her sternly. "In that dress you appear like a courtesan; and now you talk like one. It is a good thing my brother was taken off, after all--with such a wife!" Cicely sank down at his feet. "Oh, don't say that, Paul; it is not true. All this--these are the things that are underneath, they are the things that touch me; you never see them when I am dressed. It is only that I always liked to be nice for _him_; that is the reason I had all this lace; and I keep it up, because I want him to think of me always as just the same; yes, even when I am old. For I know he does think of me, and he sees me too; he is often here. Listen,--I can't help hating Eve, Paul. But it only comes in little whiffs, now and then. Supposing _I_ had shot _her_, could you like _me_, after that?" She rose, holding up her hands to him pleadingly. "In one way I love Eve." "Yet you let her go! Heaven knows where she is now." He turned his head away sharply. But she saw his tears. "No, Paul," she cried, terrified, "she isn't dead--if you mean that; she told me once, 'As long as he is in the world, I want to live!'" "Well--I shall go after her," said Paul, controlling himself. He turned towards the door. Cicely followed him. "Say good-by to me." She put up her face. He touched her forehead with his lips. Then he held her off for a moment, and looked at her. "Poor child!" he said. He returned to the house for his travelling-bag; he remembered that he had left it in the parlor upon his arrival, five hours before.