"Nay, the question is plain. Have you any wish to separate from me?"
"I never thought of such a thing. Separate from you! What can you mean?"
"Your mother has dropped a hint that you have not been happy with me. I
could almost understand her to imply that you have a positive dislike to
me. She sought to explain her words away, but certainly spoke them. Is it
so, Maude? I fancied something of the sort myself in the earlier days of
our marriage."
He turned his head sharply at a sudden sound, but it was only the French
clock on the mantelpiece striking eleven.
"Because," he resumed, having waited in vain for an answer, "if such
should really be your wish, I will accede to it. I desire your comfort,
your happiness beyond any earthly thing; and if living apart from me
would promote it, I will sacrifice my own feelings, and you shall not
hear a murmur. I would sacrifice my life for you."
She burst into tears. "Are you speaking at all for yourself? Do you wish
this?" she murmured.
"No."
"Then how can you be so cruel?"
"I should have thought it unjustifiably cruel, but that it has been
suggested to me. Tell me the truth, Maude."
Maude was turning sick with apprehension. She had begun to like her
husband during the latter part of their sojourn in London; had missed him
terribly during this long period of lonely ennui at Hartledon; and his
tender kindness to her for the past few fleeting hours of this their
meeting had seemed like heaven as compared with the solitary past.
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