e money. Then
Borrowdean made use of you. He wanted me back into politics, you wanted
more money for your follies and extravagances. Back I had to come into
harness. Blanche, I've tried to do my duty to you, but there is a limit.
I owed you a comfortable place in life, and I have tried to see that you
have it. I have never refused anything you have asked me, I have never
mentioned the sacrifices which I have been forced to make. But there is
a limit. I draw it here. I will not suffer any interference between the
Duchess of Lenchester and myself!"

Blanche Phillimore rose slowly to her feet. He was used to her fits of
passion, but there was no sign of anything of the sort in her face. She
was agitated, but in some new way. Her words were an attack, but her
manner suggested rather an appeal. Her large, fine eyes, her one
perfectly natural feature, were soft and luminous. They seemed somehow to
transfigure her face. To him it seemed like the foolish, handsome woman
of fifteen years ago who had suddenly come to life again.

"You owed me--a comfortable place in life, Lawrence! Thank--you. You have
paid the debt very well. You owed me--a respectable guardianship; you
paid that, too. Thank you again. Now tell me, do you owe me nothing
else?"

"I owed you one debt," he said, gravely, "which neither I nor any other
man who incurs it can ever discharge."

"I am glad you realize it," she answered. "But have you ever tried to
discharge it? You have given me a home and money to throw away on any
folly which could kill thought. What about the rest?"

"Blanche," he said, gravely, "the rest was impossible! You know that as
well as I do."

"It is fifteen years ago, Lawrence," she said, "and all that time we have
fenced with our words. Now I am going to speak a little more plainly. You
robbed me of my husband. The fault may not have been wholly yours, but
the fact remains. You struck him, and he died. I was left alone!"

Mannering's face was ashen. The whole horrible scene was rising up again
before him. He covered his face with his hands. It was more distinct than
ever. He saw the man's flushed face, heard his stream of abuse, felt the
sting of his blow, the hot anger with which he had struck back. Then
those few awful moments of suspense, the moment afterwards when they had
looked at one another. He shivered! Why had she let loose this flood of
memories? She was speaking to him again.

"I was left alone," she repeated, quietly