“Am I so hard? Think!” he said, sternly. “Do I treat you hardly or unjustly? I have yielded to all your demands--all of them. All I asked of you in return was that you should leave me in peace to live out the life you have degraded and ruined. Can you not do this? Are you not satisfied?” She bit at her underlip till it showed a livid scar, and tore with one restless hand at the edge of her shawl. “Suppose I’m not satisfied?” she said. “Not satisfied!” he repeated. “Even you should be contented with your work, Bella!” and he smiled grimly. “Remember what I was when my evil fate threw me across your path, and think what I am now!” She glanced up at him with a malicious sneer. “Oh, you’re sorry enough, I dare say,” she said. “Yes, I am sorry enough,” he assented, sadly. “Sorry for us both. And now what will you do? Wait”--for she had been about to answer furiously--“if you demand the rights our secret gives you, you know my reply, the course I shall adopt. It will cost me a great deal in shame and further suffering; but I shall not shrink from the cost; and you--what will you gain? Are you dead to all sense of shame? Yes, I suppose so. But there is something dear to you that you will lose--the money I give you to squander.” “Curse your money!” she hissed. “I can earn enough for myself. No; I want my revenge, and I’ll have it. I want my rights, I want all the world to know what you are.” He inclined his head. “I see,” he said, with grim resignation. “Go into the house and tell my man all that you care to tell him. To-morrow you can make the whole story public,” and he pointed to the open door. She stood and looked at his calm face, still gnawing her lip. “And you, what are you going to do? Do you mean to try and give me the slip?” “No,” he replied; “I will leave you in possession, and go down to the village. You will find me there in the morning.” She did not even pretend to disbelieve him, but she hesitated and pondered, beating her foot on the gravel path with restless fury. “And you’ve made up your mind? You’d better think it over,” she said, threateningly. He looked at her. “I have thought it over, and my mind has been made up months, years ago,” he said. “I always knew that you would not be satisfied until you had brought yourself and me to further shame; that the time would come when you would find me, track me down, and adopt the course you are taking, and I am, therefore, prepared.” “You’d best think it over,” she said, huskily. “I--I don’t want to drive you too hard. Look here, I’ll give you till to-morrow night; if you come to your senses by that time and decide that--that”--the color came and went in her face--“we are to be friends, we needn’t stay in England. I don’t care where we go.” Her voice faltered, and her dark eyes dropped under his calm, steady gaze. “If you’ll be sensible, things might be all right between us even now.” He smiled grimly.