e could never make up my mind to fling the honor of my son's mother to
them, as though it were a bone for dogs to fight over. No--I have
another proposition to make to you--"

He stopped short. She stared at him wonderingly. He resumed in
methodical, unmoved, business-like tones.

"I propose, Clara, simply,--to leave you! I'll take the boy and absent
myself from this country, so as to give you perfect freedom and save you
all trouble. There'll be no possibility of scandal, for I will keep you
cognizant of my movements,--and should you require my presence at any
time for the sake of appearances,--or--to shield you from calumny,--you
may rely on my returning to you at once,--without delay. Ernest will
gain many advantages by travel,--his education is quite a sufficient
motive for my departure, my interest in his young life being well known
to all our circle. Moreover, with me--under my surveillance--he need
never know anything against--against you. I have always taught him to
honor and obey you in his heart."

Lord Winsleigh paused a moment--then went on, somewhat musingly;--"When
he was quite little, he used to wonder why you didn't love him,--it was
hard for me to hear him say that, sometimes. But I always told him that
you did love him--but that you had so many visits to makes and so many
friends to entertain, that you had no time to play with him. I don't
think he quite understood,--but still--I did my best!"

He was silent. She had hidden her face again in her hands, and he heard
a sound of smothered sobbing.

"I think," he continued calmly, "that he has a great reverence for you
in his young heart--a feeling which partakes, perhaps, more of fear than
love--still it is better than--disdain--or--or disrespect. I shall
always teach him to esteem you highly,--but I think, as matters
stand--if I relieve you of all your responsibilities to husband and
son--you--Clara!--pray don't distress yourself--there's no occasion for
this--Clara--"

For on a sudden impulse she had flung herself at his feet in an
irrepressible storm of passionate weeping.

"Kill me, Harry!" she sobbed wildly, clinging to him. "Kill me! don't
speak to me like this!--don't leave me! Oh, my God! don't, don't despise
me so utterly! Hate me--curse me--strike me--do anything, but don't
leave me as if I were some low thing, unfit for your touch,--I know I
am, but oh, Harry! . . ." She clung to him more closely. "If you leave
me I will not live,--I ca