He glanced at her, read something in her downcast face and his own turned pale. Then starting to his feet he approached her. In an instant both her hands were in his grasp. “Did you mean what you said just now?” She looked up at him. Stout as her courage was, something in his eyes made her heart quail. “I didn’t mean it,” she answered. He dropped her hands and gave a hoarse laugh. “If you had really meant it I should have killed you,” he replied. “Did I marry you for you to fail me at the extreme moment? You know the price you pay for your present position.” “Aye, Luke,” she replied, “I do know the price, and I’ll pay it gladly to the last drop of my heart’s blood if only you on your part will fulfil your side of the bargain.” “What is that?” “I want your love and you have never given it to me.” “That was never in the bargain, Clara.” “In words it never was, but oh, you must have guessed.” She suddenly fell on her knees, her hands were clasped together, she looked up at him imploringly. “Do you think I would do what I did—that I would make myself a by-word, a disgrace, one of the cruellest women in existence, if I had not hoped to win your love? Do you think I would do what I did simply for position, a fine house, money? You do not know me. Oh, Luke, Luke, give me what I crave for. Sometimes I think my heart will break. I would gladly do evil, commit crime for you, but not when you are cold, cold as ice to me.” “Get up, Clara,” said Tarbot. “I cannot listen to your words of folly. As to my loving you, understand once for all that it is absolutely out of the question. I do what I do because—no, even to you I will not tell that part. I have my reasons.” “I wish you would tell me. I would not betray you.” “I never will tell you. Get up. Cease to talk this folly or I shall despise you and be even more cold to you than I have been of late.” Clara rose slowly. Her mad passion was over. Her face was white as death. She coughed. Her cough was hoarse and hollow. “You are not well,” said Tarbot. “You ought to do something for that cough.” “It is of no consequence, don’t notice it.” “Well, then, let us return to business. I married you because in no other way could I get what I wanted. If you fail me now you know the consequences.” She did not reply, and he turned on his heel and walked away from her. When he came back again she had not stirred from her former position; her hands were still clasped tightly together, her head was bent. “If you mean to defy me,” said Tarbot, “you had better know the truth. I can be terrible, cruel, dangerous to those who thwart me.” “I won’t defy you,” she said then, making a sort of gasping sound as she spoke. She crouched away from him, and going up to the mantelpiece leant her elbow on it. Tarbot again paced up and down the room. After a time he came up to his wife and spoke in his usual tone. “I go to Devonshire to-morrow. I shall remain there for a day or two.” “And I?” “You stay here.”