The first thought that occurred to Alicia was that he yet had strength enough left to repulse her. The evening had grown sharper, and she stood so long outside the door that the cold penetrated to the very marrow of her bones, and it was this, at last, which gave her the courage to raise the latch and enter. She opened the door of the room in which Roger March sat and then closed it softly behind her, and going towards her husband, stopped on the other side of the fireplace some distance from him. March raised his eyes and started and shuddered violently when his glance fell upon Alicia, almost as pale as himself, shivering with cold and agitation and involuntarily drawing near the blazing fire. He attempted to rise from his chair, but fell back, unequal to the effort. As his head rested against the back of his chair, Alicia, with downcast head, yet saw the marks of illness and age and grief in him, and it brought a pang to her heart such as she had never felt before in her life. Her apparition, so strange and unexpected, agitated March more than he could bear. Alicia did not speak for some minutes, and then she said in the low, delicious voice which had not lost its charm for the man who once adored her: "I came because I couldn’t help it. I heard that you were ill. I know you hate me, and I knew that I would lose all I had if I came, but something stronger than myself brought me. I don’t excuse what I have done, but--but I could not keep away." March’s pallid lips formed one word. "Colegrove?" Alicia answered in the same quiet, despairing voice: "He told me of your illness and reminded me that if I tried to see you I would lose everything, but I scarcely heard what he was saying. I could not keep away. He overtook me on the journey yesterday morning and wished to make me promise if I found you dead that I would marry him--he is divorced. I felt such rage against him--" She stopped and raised her hands and clenched them with a gesture which implied a hatred of Colegrove greater than any words could convey. "I never was worthy of you, but perhaps if it had not been for Nicholas Colegrove I should not have wrecked and ruined you as I have done, so it is only just that I should be wrecked and ruined, too." Then she came nearer to him and suddenly burst into sobs and, clasping her hands, cried: "Let me stay--let me stay, if only for this one night. It is so cold outside, and I know not where to go. I never wronged you with Nicholas Colegrove except about money. Let me stay! Would you drive me out like a houseless dog?" She had not yet ventured near enough to her husband to touch him. March put his thin hands over his face, his features were convulsed, but he said no word. Then Alicia, laying her hand on the arm of his chair, cried: