"Elise," said Mrs. Kildair, coming forward again and arresting the other’s arm, "listen. You are not what I am. You are not strong—you are weak. You are a woman of the world, worldly, loving worldly things, who for a moment has been transformed by a great passion. The whole earth has no such passion any longer. Do you understand? Something is gone—your youth is ended. Keep tight hold of the little that is left. Come, be strong. Dissimulate as you have before. Come." "Not now," said Mrs. Bloodgood, terrified. "Yes, now. If possible, you must be back before he returns." And Beecher, from his chair where he had watched, forgotten by both women, saw Mrs. Kildair, who not for a moment had deviated from the vital issue, draw the unresisting woman by the very force of her energy into the bedroom, from which shortly they emerged again. "I am ready," said Mrs. Bloodgood in a voice that was scarcely distinguishable. She had thrown over her head a thick veil, behind which her features were only dimly visible. "Telephone for a carriage," said Mrs. Kildair. "I have done so," said Beecher, who had availed himself of the interval. "But the trunks?" said Mrs. Bloodgood, turning helplessly. "They went back long ago." "Ah!" She took a few weak steps and turned. "But I shall see him?" "I give you my word." "Tonight?" "Tonight." Mrs. Bloodgood made a little sign of acquiescence, and passed out of the door. The carriage was waiting. Beecher silently handed her into it, feeling the sudden heaviness on his arm. They rolled away. She did not lift her veil, and he could not guess what look was on her face. Twice she made him change their course, in order to put off the final dreaded moment. "You have been kind," she said at last. "I owe you much. Thank you. Now I will go back." "Don’t speak of thanks at such a time," he said hastily. "If I can help you in any way, any time—" "I know." All at once, forgetting his presence, she burst out: "Oh, how I loved him! I would have done anything for him—anything! I can’t believe it. It doesn’t seem possible!" "Be careful, Mrs. Bloodgood," he said, alarmed. "Be careful—please." "You need have no fear," she said slowly. "All that is over." But, still obsessed, she seized his arm. "Only I want you to know that I loved him so that nothing made any difference. Any one can know it. I would have gone—" "I know it," he said quickly, taking her hand to quiet her. "Oh, yes, I loved him—the only real thing in my life!" she repeated, sinking back. Ahead he saw the great Italian façade of the Bloodgood residence, where twenty servants awaited the call of this shadow at his side, whose invitation could make a social reputation. Then his quick eye, as they neared the steps, perceived the squat, stolid figure of Mr. Enos Bloodgood at the door.