“What is the good of making excuses and telling me what is not true, Edward?” she said.  “One never hears a man who loves a woman talk like that; prudence comes with weariness, and men grow circumspect when there is nothing more to gain.  You are tired of me.  I have seen it a long time, but like a blind fool I have tried not to believe it.  It is not a great reward to a woman who has given her whole life to a man, but perhaps it is as much as she can expect, for I do not want to be unjust to you.  I am the most to blame, because we need never take a false step except of our own free will.”

“Well, well,” he said impatiently, “what of it?”

“Only this, Edward.  I have still a little pride left, and as you are tired of me, why—­go.”

He tried hard to prevent it, but do what he would, a look of relief struggled into his face.  She saw it, and it stung her almost to madness.

“You need not look so happy, Edward; it is scarcely decent; and, besides, you have not heard all that I have to say.  I know what this arises from.  You are in love with Ida de la Molle.  Now there I draw the line.  You may leave me if you like, but you shall not marry Ida while I am alive to prevent it.  That is more than I can bear.  Besides, like a wise woman, she wishes to marry Colonel Quaritch, who is worth two of you, Edward Cossey.”

“I do not believe it,” he answered; “and what right have you to say that I am in love with Miss de la Molle?  And if I am in love with her, how can you prevent me from marrying her if I choose?”

“Try and you will see,” she answered, with a little laugh.  “And now, as the curtain has dropped, and it is all over between us, why the best thing that we can do is to put out the lights and go to bed,” and she laughed again and courtesied with much assumed playfulness.  “Good-night, Mr. Cossey; good-night, and good-bye.”

He held out his hand.  “Come, Belle,” he said, “don’t let us part like this.”

She shook her head and once more put her arms behind her.  “No,” she answered, “I will not take your hand.  Of my own free will I shall never touch it again, for to me it is like the hand of the dead.  Good-bye, once more; good-bye to you, Edward, and to all the happiness that I ever had.  I built up my life upon my love for you, and you have shattered it like glass.  I do not reproach you; you have followed after your nature and I must follow after mine, and in time all things will come right—­in the grave.  I shall not trouble you any more, provided that you do not try to marry Ida, for that I will not bear.  And now go, for I am very tired,” and turning, she rang the bell for the servant to show him out.