wer voice, 'that if we part now, we
part for ever?'

'I'm afraid that is only too likely.'

She moved aside.

'You mean that you wish it. You are weary of me, and care for nothing
but how to make yourself free.'

'I shall argue no more. I am tired to death of it.'

'Then say nothing, but listen for the last time to my view of the
position we have come to. When I consented to leave you for a time, to
go away and try to work in solitude, I was foolish and even insincere,
both to you and to myself. I knew that I was undertaking the impossible.
It was just putting off the evil day, that was all--putting off the time
when I should have to say plainly: "I can't live by literature, so I
must look out for some other employment." I shouldn't have been so weak
but that I knew how you would regard such a decision as that. I was
afraid to tell the truth--afraid. Now, when Carter of a sudden put this
opportunity before me, I saw all the absurdity of the arrangements we
had made. It didn't take me a moment to make up my mind. Anything was
to be chosen rather than a parting from you on false pretences, a
ridiculous affectation of hope where there was no hope.'

He paused, and saw that his words had no effect upon her.

'And a grievous share of the fault lies with you, Amy. You remember very
well when I first saw how dark the future was. I was driven even to say
that we ought to change our mode of living; I asked you if you would be
willing to leave this place and go into cheaper rooms. And you know what
your answer was. Not a sign in you that you would stand by me if the
worst came. I knew then what I had to look forward to, but I durst not
believe it. I kept saying to myself: "She loves me, and as soon as she
really understands--" That was all self-deception. If I had been a wise
man, I should have spoken to you in a way you couldn't mistake. I should
have told you that we were living recklessly, and that I had determined
to alter it. I have no delicacy? No regard for your feelings? Oh, if
I had had less! I doubt whether you can even understand some of the
considerations that weighed with me, and made me cowardly--though I once
thought there was no refinement of sensibility that you couldn't enter
into. Yes, I was absurd enough to say to myself: "It will look as if I
had consciously deceived her; she may suffer from the thought that I won
her at all hazards, knowing that I should soon expose her to poverty and
all sorts of hu