the play we saw together
at Rome? Is the story as present to your mind now, as it was then?"

"Quite as present."

"You asked if I was performing the part of the Marquis--and if you were
the Count. Rothsay! the devotion of that ideal character to his friend
has been my devotion; his conviction that his death would justify what
he had done for his friend's sake, has been _my_ conviction; and as it
ended with him, so it has ended with me--his terrible position is _my_
terrible position toward you, at this moment."

"Are you mad?" Rothsay asked, sternly.

I passed over that first outbreak of his anger in silence.

"Do you mean to tell me you have married Susan?" he went on.

"Bear this in mind," I said. "When I married her, I was doomed to death.
Nay, more. In your interests--as God is my witness--I welcomed death."

He stepped up to me, in silence, and raised his hand with a threatening
gesture.

That action at once deprived me of my self-possession. I spoke with the
ungovernable rashness of a boy.

"Carry out your intention," I said. "Insult me."

His hand dropped.

"Insult me," I repeated; "it is one way out of the unendurable situation
in which we are placed. You may trust me to challenge you. Duels are
still fought on the Continent; I will follow you abroad; I will choose
pistols; I will take care that we fight on the fatal foreign system; and
I will purposely miss you. Make her what I intended her to be--my rich
widow."

He looked at me attentively.

"Is _that_ your refuge?" he asked, scornfully. "No! I won't help you to
commit suicide."

God forgive me! I was possessed by a spirit of reckless despair; I did
my best to provoke him.

"Reconsider your decision," I said; "and remember--you tried to commit
suicide yourself."

He turned quickly to the door, as if he distrusted his own powers of
self-control.

"I wish to speak to Susan," he said, keeping his back turned on me.

"You will find her in the library."

He left me.

I went to the window. I opened it and let the cold wintry air blow over
my burning head. I don't know how long I sat at the window. There came a
time when I saw Rothsay on the house steps. He walked rapidly toward the
park gate. His head was down; he never once looked back at the room in
which he had left me.

As he passed out of my sight, I felt a hand laid gently on my shoulder.
Susan had returned to me.

"He will not come back," she said. "Try still to remember him as