‘In his room I found the nurse, to whom I had had almost to go on my knees a few days before to prevail upon her to stay. She had moved as far away from him as she could, and was sitting, where he could see her, with her fingers in her ears, looking sullen and obstinate. She had often complained, but I had never seen her look like that before. As soon as I came in, she got up, and said: ‘“Mrs. Marchmont, I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I have to tell you that I cannot remain any longer to nurse Mr. Marchmont. I don’t know what he is or where he comes from, but though I have nursed all kinds of men of the roughest sort--navvies, and coal-heavers, and drunkards, and as bad as bad can be, in the hospitals, I never in all my time have heard such words as he has been pouring out upon me for the last hour. I leave to-morrow. I shall explain to my matron, and if she dismisses me I can’t help it. I will not stay here!” ‘Of course, there was only one thing that I could say to her. I knew she spoke the truth; I could not be angry with her. I believe I spoke with a smile, for the thought in my heart was, “Then we are both going away. How happy we are!” I said, “I am very sorry you have had such an unpleasant experience. I do not ask you to remain. You can go. Good-night.” She looked at me for a moment, and then went away. He had not spoken. As soon as she had gone, and the door was shut, he turned to me and asked where I had been all that time. With the doctors, I told him. They had both gone. ‘“Ah! and have you decided on a plan for my destruction?” he asked me, with the sort of laugh that he had sometimes. ‘“I am sorry to say that, when we did speak of you, the only thing that was discussed was the best means for prolonging your life,” I replied. I had never felt like that before; I had never felt him to be so wicked, nor myself so wronged, as I did at that moment. In the next everything was changed. ‘“You hate me--me, who have done everything for you. You wish me dead. And I married you when no one else would have married you. I raised you from beggary--practical beggary--to this!” I heard what he said, and, though it is so monstrous, I knew in an instant that he believed what he said--he was firmly convinced of it. He was sure that he had really done me an unexampled benefit in taking me away from my shabby, poverty-stricken home and my equivocal surroundings, and in making me a rich man’s wife--his own legal, unassailable wife.’ She laughed, and there was a sound of bitter tears in her laugh.