have made up my mind to do. The first--the
chief thing--is that our married life is at an end."

She heard him with a curious absence of surprise. Somehow, from the
instant she had seen his dismantled room she had known, known surely,
that the long fight between herself and Catherine was over. And that
Catherine had won.

"At an end? Hugh, what do you mean? What are you going to do? You're
not, you're not going to send me away?"

"No, not that. I've no right to punish you. You've been guilty of no
fault--"

"Except the fault of being myself," she flung back bitterly.

"But I ought never to have married you. I did it, knowing you were not
fit--suitable"--he corrected himself hastily. "So I alone am to blame.
You will retain your position here as my wife--mistress of my home."
Diane, remembering Catherine's despotic rule, smiled mirthlessly. "But
henceforth you will be my wife in name only. I shall have no wife."

Diane caught that note of dull endurance in his voice, and seized upon
it. He still cared!

"Hugh, you've listened to Catherine till you've lost all sense of
truth." She spoke gently, pleadingly. "Don't do this thing. We've been
guilty of no sin that needs atonement. It isn't wrong to love."

But he was implacable.

"No," he returned. "It isn't wrong to love--but sometimes love should be
denied."

Diane drew nearer to him, and laid her hand on his arm.

"Not ours, Hugh," she whispered. "Not love like ours--"

"Be silent!"

Hugh sprang to his feet, his eyes ablaze, his voice hoarse and shaking.

"Don't tempt me! Do you think I've found it easy to decide on this? When
every fibre of my body is calling out for you? My God, no!"

"Then don't do it! Hugh--dearest--"

With sudden violence he caught her by the arms.

"Be silent, I tell you! Don't tempt me! I'll make my penance, accept the
burden laid on me--that my first-born should be a girl!"

Diane clung to him, resisting his attempt to thrust her from him.

"Hugh! Ah, wait! Listen to me! . . . Dear, some day there may be a
little son, yours and mine--"

He flung her from him violently.

"There shall never be a son of ours! Never! It is the Will of God."

With an immense effort he checked the rising frenzy within him--the
ecstasy of the martyr embracing the stake to which he shall be bound. He
moved across to the door and held it open for her.

"And now, will you please go? That is my last word on the matter."

Diane turned hesitatingly