"Miriam, there's one thing you will tell me; you won't refuse to. Is she still living alone?" "Yes." "Then there is still hope for me. I must go back to her, Miriam. No--listen to me! That is my one and only hope. If I lose that, I lose everything. Down and down, lower and lower into bestial life--that's my fate, unless she saves me from it. Won't you help me? Go and speak to her for me, dear sister, you can't refuse me that. Tell her how helpless I am, and implore her to save me, only out of pity. I don't care how mean it makes me in your eyes or hers; I have no self-respect left, nor courage--nothing but a desire to go back to her and ask her to forgive me." Miriam could scarcely speak for shame and distress. "It is impossible, Reuben. Be man enough to face what you have brought on yourself. Have you no understanding left? With her, there is no hope for you. She and you are no mates; you can only wreck each other's lives. Surely, surely you know this by now! She could only confirm your ruin, strive with you as she might; you would fall again into hateful falsity. Forget her, begin a life without thought of her, and you may still save yourself--yourself; no one else can save you. Begin the struggle alone, manlike. You have no choice but to do so." "I tell you I can't live without her. Where is she? I will go myself--" "You will never know from me. What right have you to ask her to sink with you? That's what it means. There are people who think that a wife's obligation has no bounds, that she _must_ sink, if her husband choose to demand it. Let those believe it who will. What motive should render such a sacrifice possible to her? You know she cannot love you. Pity? How can she pity you in such a sense as to degrade herself for your sake? Neither you nor she nor I hold the creed that justifies such martyrdom. Am _I_ to teach you such things? Shame! Have the courage of your convictions. You have released her, and you must be content to leave her free. The desire to fetter her again is ignoble, dastardly!" He would neither be shamed nor convinced. With desperate beseechings, with every argument of passion, no matter how it debased him, he strove frantically to subdue her to his purpose. But Miriam was immovable. At length she could not even urge him with reasonings; his prostrate frenzy revolted her, and she drew away in repugnance. Reuben's supplication turned on the instant into brutal rage. "Curse your obstinacy!" he shouted, in a voice that had strained itself to hoarseness. The door opened, and Mallard, who had come to see whether Elgar was still here, heard his exclamation. "Out of the house!" he commanded sternly. "March! And never let me see you here again." Reuben rushed past him, and the house-door closed violently. Then Miriam's overstrung nerves gave way, and for the first time Mallard saw her shed tears. She described to him the scene that had passed.