He believed her; he still believed her. She saw that these two years of misery had made his faith in her something like a religion; he found it his one refuge from despair. 'But for that, Sibyl, I shouldn't be alive now!' She had known self-reproach; now again it touched her slightly, passingly--poor old boy! But unfaithful to him? To call _that_ unfaithfulness? The idea was too foolish. Her fears were all outlived. She had dared the worst, and daring was grown an easy habit. But in the life that lay before them, _her_ judgment, _her_ ambitions, must prevail and direct. Yesterday she had no course save yielding; today her rule must begin. Hugh was stirring. He groaned, and threw out one of his arms; muttered, as if angrily. She touched him, and on the instant he awoke. 'Sibyl? Good God! that's a queer thing--I dreamt that yesterday was a dream, and that I had woke up to find myself---- Did you ever do that--dream you were dreaming?' She stroked his head, laughing playfully. 'You've had a good long night. Don't you feel better? Shall I bring you some breakfast here?' 'No; I must get up. What's the time? Miles will be coming.' Sibyl knew that the Major would not be here until two o'clock; but she said nothing, and left him to dress. On the breakfast-table were delicacies to tempt his palate, but Hugh turned from them. He ate for a few minutes only, without appetite, and, as on the day before, Sibyl was annoyed by the strange rudeness with which he fed himself; he seemed to have forgotten the habits of refinement at table. Afterwards he lighted a cigar, but soon threw it aside; tobacco made him sick. In the drawing-room he moved aimlessly about, blundering now and then against a piece of furniture, and muttering a curse. The clothes he wore, out of his old wardrobe, hung loose about him; he had a stoop in the shoulders. 'Sibyl, what are we going to do?' For this she had waited. She sat looking at him with a compassionate smile. It was an odd thing if this poor broken-down man could not be made subservient to her will. 'I still think, dear boy, that we ought to accept Lady Isobel's invitation.' A nervous paroxysm shook him. 'Damn Lady Isobel! I thought that was done with.' 'I don't think you would speak of her like that, Hugh, if you knew all her kindness to me. I couldn't tell you all yesterday. May I now? Or shall I only irritate you?' 'What is it? Of course, I don't want you to offend her. But I suppose she has common-sense?' 'More than most women. There's no fear of offending her. I have another reason. Come and sit quietly by me, and let us talk as we used to do. Do you know, dear, it's a good thing for me that I had powerful friends; I needed all their help against my enemies.' 'What enemies?' 'Have you forgotten what you yourself said, and felt so strongly, at that time--what a danger I was exposed to when we determined to tell the whole truth? You knew what some people would say.'