s no doubt in the minds of those who listened in awed silence
that here was the whole truth at last.

Fay looked full at Wentworth and then said: "He asked me why I had sent
for him, what it was that he could do for me. And I said--I said--'Take
me with you.'"

"No," said Michael, wincing as under a lash, "No, you did not. Fay, you
never said that."

"You did not hear it, but I said it."

Michael staggered against the mantelpiece.

Wentworth had not moved. His face had become frightful, distorted.

"I am a wicked woman, Wentworth," said Fay. "I tried to make him in love
with me. I tried to tempt him. I could make him love me, but not do
wrong. And then I let him take the blame when he was trapped. I had
trapped him there first. He did not want to come. I forced him to come.
I let him spoil his life to save my wretched good name. He is right when
he told you just now that I never loved him. The love was all on his
side. He gave it all. I took it all, and I went on taking it. It was I
who kept him in prison quite as much as the Marchesa. It was I who let
him burn and freeze in his cell. A word from me would have got him out."

Wentworth laughed suddenly, a horrible, discordant laugh.

They had rotted down before his eyes to loathsome unrecognisable
corpses--the man and the woman he had loved.

Fay looked wildly at him.

"But you are good," she said faintly. "You won't, Wentworth, you won't
cast me off like--like I did Michael."

He did not look at her.

He took up his gloves and straightened the fingers as his custom was.

"There is no longer anything which need detain me here," he said to the
Bishop, and he moved towards the door.

"Nothing except the woman whose fate is in your hands," said the Bishop
gently. "What of her? She deserted Michael because her eyes were holden.
Now you can make the balance even if you will. But will you? You can
repay cruelty with cruelty. You can desert her with inhumanity even
greater than hers, because you do it with your eyes open. But will you?
Is it to be an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth? She loves you
and is at your mercy, even as Michael was once at hers. You can crush
her if you will. But will you?"

"Wentworth!" said Fay, and she fell at his feet, clasping his knees.

His face was as flint, as he looked down at her, and tried to push away
her hands.

"Let him go, my child," said the Bishop sternly, and he took Fay's
hands, and held them. "It is no use