ming from her eyes.

"Sir," said Alice, "you have heard from her all that you can care to
hear. If you have any feeling of honour in you, you will leave her."

"I will never leave her, while she tells me that she loves me!"

"Yes, Burgo, you will;--you must! I shall never tell you that again,
never. Do as she bids you. Go, and leave us;--but I could not bear
that you should tell me that I was hard."

"You are hard;--hard and cruel, as you said, yourself."

"Am I? May God forgive you for saying that of me!"

"Then why do you send me away?"

"Because I am a man's wife, and because I care for his honour, if not
for my own. Alice, let us go."

He still held her, but she would have been gone from him had he not
stooped over her, and put his arm round her waist. In doing this, I
doubt whether he was quicker than she would have been had she chosen
to resist him. As it was, he pressed her to his bosom, and, stooping
over her, kissed her lips. Then he left her, and making his way out
of the room, and down the stairs, got himself out into the street.

"Thank God, that he is gone!" said Alice.

"You may say so," said Lady Glencora, "for you have lost nothing!"

"And you have gained everything!"

"Have I? I did not know that I had ever gained anything, as yet. The
only human being to whom I have ever yet given my whole heart,--the
only thing that I have ever really loved, has just gone from me for
ever, and you bid me thank God that I have lost him. There is no room
for thankfulness in any of it;--either in the love or in the loss. It
is all wretchedness from first to last!"

"At any rate, he understands now that you meant it when you told him
to leave you."

"Of course I meant it. I am beginning to know myself by degrees. As
for running away with him, I have not the courage to do it. I can
think of it, scheme for it, wish for it;--but as for doing it, that
is beyond me. Mr Palliser is quite safe. He need not try to coax me
to remain."

Alice knew that it was useless to argue with her, so she came and sat
over her,--for Lady Glencora had again placed herself on the stool
by the window,--and tried to sooth her by smoothing her hair, and
nursing her like a child.

"Of course I know that I ought to stay where I am," she said,
breaking out, almost with rage, and speaking with quick, eager voice.
"I am not such a fool as to mistake what I should be if I left my
husband, and went to live with that man as his mistress.