“But you know that I only cared for the kingdom for your sake. Oh, Cyril, it is you I love, you I want. Your life is mine; you cannot--dare not--rob me of it. Think of the many years you made me suffer in loneliness. You owe me all those.” He was silent, and she crept closer to him. “Beloved, you don’t regret that I came in? that you have been held back from taking your life like a coward? I would never have believed any one who told me that you were afraid to face any future. You will be greater in adversity than in success. God is sending you this trial that your true strength may be shown.” Cyril shifted his position impatiently. “You would not, in a moment of despair, refuse the trial, fail under the test, and destroy your soul for ever?” “Really, Ernestine, this kind of argument has no weight with me.” “Then perhaps this will weigh with you.” Stung by his tone, she tore the diamond cross from her neck and held it towards him. “Whatever you do not believe, you know that God and Heaven and eternal judgment are realities to me. Understand, then, that if you take your own life, either to-night or afterwards, I swear that I will do the same, solemnly believing that my soul will be lost for ever in consequence of the deed. Oh, what am I saying?” She paused and trembled, but as he tried to wrest the cross from her, her fingers tightened upon it more firmly. “Yes, I will do it, without hesitation. God forgive me--no, I dare not ask Him to forgive me--God forgive you, if you drive me to it.” Cyril dropped into a chair, and buried his face in his hands. She stood beside him, awaiting his decision with perfect calmness. “If you die, I die,” she said again. At last he looked up. “I give in, Ernestine. But I think you will often repent this evening’s work.” “Never, even if you do.” “I? I shall repent it every day--every hour--of my existence.” It was the bitter cry of the man who sees every interest and every pleasure in life snatched from him in a moment. “I am a useless, brainless log, and you force me to live.” “Dearest, there is still so much that you can do.” The woman’s unselfishness led her to try to comfort him in his own way, instead of resenting the little value he set upon her love. “You never even discovered your loss until a very momentous crisis arose. If Philippa marries Michael, you can return to Thracia, and become Premier again.” “Are you trying to tempt me to sacrifice poor Phil? Don’t you see that I could never go back to office as a humdrum, routine, red-tape Minister, incapable of effecting combinations or making bold strokes? I could not face a horrible monotony of that sort.” “Then we will settle down in England, near----” “And add another specimen to the British collection of political failures from the Continent? Hear myself continually pointed out as an awful warning of the dangers of leaving the beaten track? Never!”