"What will be done if he comes here?" Lionel was silent. "Shall you fight him?" "Fight him!" echoed Lionel. "No." "You will give up Verner's Pride without a struggle! You will give up me! Then, are you a coward, Lionel Verner?" "You know that I would give up neither willingly, Sibylla." Grievously pained was his tone as he replied to her. She was meeting this as she did most other things--without sense or reason; not as a thinking, rational being. Her manner was loud, her emotion violent; but deep and true her grief was _not_. Depth of feeling, truth of nature, were qualities that never yet had place in Sibylla Verner. Not once, throughout all their married life, had Lionel been so painfully impressed with the fact as he was now. "Am I to die for the want of that water?" she resumed. "If you don't get it for me I shall ring for the servants to bring it." He opened the door again without a word. He knew quite well that she had thrown in that little shaft about ringing for the servants, because it would not be pleasant to him that the servants should intrude upon them then. Outside the door, about to knock at it, was Deborah West. "I must go home," she whispered. "Mr. Verner, how sadly she is meeting this!" The very thought that was in Lionel's heart. But not to another would he cast a shade of reflection on his wife. "It is a terrible thing for any one to meet," he answered. "I could have wished, Miss West, that you had not imparted it to her. Better that I should have done it, when it must have been done." "I did it from a good motive," was the reply of Deborah, who was looking sadly down-hearted, and had evidently been crying. "She ought to leave you until some certainty shall be arrived at." "Nonsense! No!" said Lionel. "I beg you--I _beg_ you, Miss West, not to say anything more that can distress or disturb her. If the--the--explosion comes, of course it must come; and we must all meet it as we best may, and see then what is best to be done." "But it is not right that she should remain with you in this uncertainty," urged Deborah, who could be obstinate when she thought she had cause. "The world will not deem it to be right. You should remember this." "I do not act to please the world. I am responsible to God and my conscience." "Responsible to--Good gracious, Mr. Verner!" returned Deborah, every line in her face expressing astonishment. "You call keeping her with you acting as a responsible man ought! If Sibylla's husband is living, you must put her away from your side." "When the time shall come. Until then, my duty--as I judge it--is to keep her by my side; to shelter her from harm and annoyance, petty as well as great." "You deem _that_ your duty!" "I do," he firmly answered. "My duty to her and to God." Deborah shook her head and her hands. "It ought not to be let go on," she said, moving nearer to the study door. "I shall urge the leaving you upon her."