y shared this
danger between them, that his enemy was hers also, and that she had
voluntarily ranged herself by his side. A feeling of satisfaction
flashed through his mind at this community of interests with the woman
whom he loved, but it was merged at once in the conviction that he could
not be content for one single moment to leave her exposed to the
possibility of insult from Cora.

She had commanded him not to punish his wife. It was very difficult for
him to obey. This bitterness against the degraded wretch was roused to
its highest pitch by her last outbreak. If she would only die out of his
life--die in any sense, so that he might hear and see her no more--he
would not ask for her punishment. If she would cease to be his wife, and
enable him to stand beside the pure and steadfast woman whose gentle
influence had transformed his soul, he would forgive her. There was no
way in which this could be done except by exposing her before the world,
and depriving her of all right to look to him for support, and in the
doing of this he knew full well there would be no room for weak pity and
misgiving.

He could not forgive her if that was to mean that he should keep her as
his wife, and go on trying to buy her silence. He did not want to
inflict pain upon her out of mere resentment, and if he could have his
way in the matter of the divorce he was quite willing that she should
have some of his money. He would be so rich without her that he would
gladly go out into the street then and there, stripped of everything
that he possessed, if in that way he could shake off the galling fetters
that weighed upon him.

To-morrow he would tell his lawyer that she was to have her weekly money
again, on condition of her solemnly renewing her engagement not to
molest him in any way, and not to interfere with any of his friends. She
would probably regard the offer as a sign of weakness, but at any rate
it would put her on her good behavior for a time. He would do this for
Lettice's sake, if not for his own.

He knew with whom he had to deal, and of what this raving woman was
capable. If she had been English, or German, and had gone utterly to the
bad, she might by this time have been lethargically besotted, and would
have given him very little trouble so long as she received her two
pounds a week. But Cora was Latin, and belonged to the same race as the
poet who drew the harpies, and the Gorgons, and mad Dido, and frenzied
Camilla, w