“Oh, God!” she cried, leaping to her feet with sudden wild passion. “Don’t torture me any more. You have caused enough misery in my life. Why should I sacrifice my heart’s blood for you--on the first fanciful alarm of danger! Have you ever made one sacrifice for me? Even when you said you loved me, did you give up one hour’s philandering with that other woman? You looked upon me at first as a toy to your hand--you told me so in this very room--to gratify your passions. You married me for my money. You condemned me to that life of scheming and falsehood. You were afraid to face my father like a man. You ruined my life--and now that I am about to build it up again--you come--I don’t believe it--it is another lie--for some purpose of your own.” Hugh looked steadily at her for some moments, and, without condescending to reply, turned on his heel and stalked towards the door. His hand was on the knob, when she rushed forward, caught him by the coat sleeve, and fell at his feet. “Forgive me, Hugh. Forgive me--I did not know what I was saying--all this is driving me mad--forgive me--pity me--you once loved me Hugh--I can’t lose my money--keep our secret for God’s sake.” She sobbed out her incoherent and imploring words in hoarse, frightened tones. A wave of supreme scorn swept through him. Even an hour ago this craven agony of fear and avarice would have been inconceivable. But he raised her gently to her feet, and drew her a short way from the door. She stood trembling and shrinking before him. “I have already told you, Minna,” he said, in a low voice, “you can keep your money, if you value it more than my life.” In another moment he was gone. Minna staggered to a couch and lay there, her hands clutching at the loosened coils of her dark hair, in death grapple with the devils that had taken possession of her. But none the less she parted from old Anna Cassaba the following morning without breathing to her a word concerning Hugh’s danger. “You will come very soon, dearie, and let me show you your dear mother’s beautiful country?” said the old woman, amid the final adieux. “Very soon,” sobbed Minna, clinging round her neck. “And then we’ll begin a new life and forget all this horror. I want to forget it all--forget I was ever married--forget his existence--and everything!” Later in the day she accepted the urgently offered hospitality of Aaron Bebro, one of her father’s oldest city friends, whose motherly wife, forgetful of past disdain and derision, gave her warm-hearted welcome. She took the girl to her capacious bosom and cried over her a little; and Minna was miserable and frightened enough to feel grateful.