led me now by a base name; and in that I
have lived with you and have not loved you, I dare not say that you
have called me falsely. But I will sin no more."

"What is it you mean?"

"I will not deserve the name again--even from you."

"Nonsense; I do not understand you. You do not know what you are
saying."

"Yes, Sir Henry, I do know well what I am saying. It may be that I
have done you some injury; if so, I regret it. God knows that you
have done me much. We can neither of us now add to each other's
comfort, and it will be well that we should part."

"Do you mean me to understand that you intend to leave me?"

"That is what I intend you to understand."

"Nonsense; you will do no such thing."

"What! would you have us remain together, hating each other,
vilifying each other, calling each other base names as you just now
called me? And do you think that we could still be man and wife? No,
Sir Henry. I have made one great mistake--committed one wretched,
fatal error. I have so placed myself that I must hear myself so
called and bear it quietly; but I will not continue to be so used. Do
you think he would have called me so?"

"Damn him!"

"That will not hurt him. Your words are impotent against him, though
they may make me shudder."

"Do not speak of him, then."

"No, I will not. I will only think of him."

"By heavens! Caroline, your only wish is to make me angry."

"I may go now, I suppose?"

"Go--yes; you may go; I will speak to you to-morrow, when you will be
more cool."

"To-morrow, Sir Henry, I will not speak to you; nor the day
afterwards, nor the day after that. What you may wish to say now
I will hear; but remember this--after what has passed to-day, no
consideration on earth shall induce me to live with you again. In any
other respect I will obey your orders--if I find it possible."

She stayed yet a little while longer, leaning against the table,
waiting to hear whether or no he would answer her; but as he sat
silent, looking before him, but not at her, with his hands thrust
deep into his pockets, she without further words withdrew, and
quietly closed the door after her. As she did so, the faithful John
was seen moving away to the top of the kitchen stairs. She would
hardly have cared had the faithful John been present during the whole
interview.

Sir Henry sat silent for a quarter of an hour, meditating how he
would now play his game. As regarded merely personal considerations,
he wa