I should kill myself, and make you miserable.
But now I must go to _her_--to the _poor_--to those whom I _love_, whom I carry in my heart!" She broke off sobbing.

He saw her, in her wild excitement, look round the splendid room as though she would wither it to ruin with one fiery, accusing glance.
"You are very scornful of wealth," he said, catching her wrists, "but one thing you have no right to scorn!--the man who has given you his inmost heart--and now only asks you to believe in this, that he is not the cruel hypocrite you are determined to make him!" His face quivered in every feature.

She was checked a moment--checked by the moral compulsion of his tone and manner, as well as by his words.
But again she tore herself away.
"_Please_ go and order the carriage," she said.

"I cannot bear any more.
I _must_ go home and rest.

Some day I will ask your pardon--oh! for this--and--and--" she was almost choked again--"other things.