At this, some demon in me broke loose, and springing to her side I caught her hands in mine. "Do not dare to talk of God!" I said in passionate accents; "Not in this room,--not in _that_ presence! Why should you call curses down upon me? The help of God means punishment,--the consolations of God are terrible! For strength must acknowledge itself weak before He will help it,--and a heart must be broken before He will console it! But what do I say!--I believe in _no_ God--! I believe in an unknown Force that encompasses me and hunts me down to the grave, but nothing more. _She_ thought as I do,--and with reason,--for what has God done for her? She was made evil from the first,--a born snare of Satan...." Something caught my breath here,--I stopped, unable to utter another word. Mavis stared at me affrighted, and I stared back again. "What is it?" she whispered alarmedly. I struggled to speak,--finally, with difficulty I answered her-- "Nothing!" And I motioned her away with a gesture of entreaty. The expression of my face must have startled or intimidated her I fancy, for she retreated hastily and I watched her disappearing as if she were the phantom of a dream,--then, as she passed out through the boudoir, I drew close the velvet portiére behind her and locked the intermediate door. This done I went slowly back to the side of my dead wife. "Now Sibyl,"--I said aloud--"we are alone, you and I--alone with our own reflected images,--you dead, and I living! You have no terrors for me in your present condition,--your beauty has gone. Your smile, your eyes, your touch cannot stir me to a throb of the passion you craved, yet wearied of! What have you to say to me?--I have heard that the dead can speak at times,--and you owe me reparation,--reparation for the wrong you did me,--the lie on which you based our marriage,--the guilt you cherished in your heart! Shall I read your petition for forgiveness here?"