GERTRUDE. [To SYBIL.] Mrs Cleeve—! [Looking down upon AGNES.] Mrs. Cleeve, we—my brother and I—hoped to save this woman. She was worth saving. You have utterly destroyed her. [SYBIL makes no answer, but walks slowly away with SANDFORD, then stops and turns abruptly.]
SYBIL. [With a gasp.] Oh—! No—I will not accept the services of this wretched woman. I loathe myself for what I have done. [Coming to AGNES.] Look up! Look at me! [Proudly—lifting her veil.] I decline your help—I decline it. [To GERTRUDE and AMOS.] You hear me—you— and you? I unsay all that I've said to her. It's too degrading. I will not have such an act upon my conscience. [To AGNES.] Understand me! If you rejoin this man I shall consider it a fresh outrage upon me. I hope you will keep with your friends. [GERTRUDE holds out her hand to SYBIL; SYBIL touches it distantly.]
AGNES. [Clutching at SYBIL'S skirts.] Forgive me! forgive—!
SYBIL. [Retreating.] Ah, please—! [Turning and confronting SANDFORD.]
Tell your mother I have failed. I am not going back to England.
[LUCAS enters quickly; he and SYBIL come face to face. They stand looking at each other for a moment, then she sweeps past him and goes out. SANDFORD follows her.]
LUCAS. [Coming to AGNES.] Agnes—[To AGNES, in rapid, earnest undertones.] They sent me to the railway station; my brother told me you were likely to leave for Milan tonight. I ought to have guessed sooner that you were in the hands of this meddling parson and his sister. Why has my wife been here—?
AGNES. [In a low voice, rocking herself gently to and fro.] You wife— your wife—!
LUCAS. And the others? What scheme is afoot now? Why have you left me? Why didn't you tell me outright that I was putting you to too severe a test? You tempted me, you led me on, to propose that I should patch up my life in that way. [She rises, with an expressionless face.] But it has had one good result. I know now how much I depend on you. Oh, I have had it all out with myself, pacing up and down that cursed railway station. [Laying his hand upon her arm and speaking into her ear.] I don't deceive myself any longer. Agnes, this is the great cause of the unhappiness I've experienced of late years—I'm not fit for the fight and press of life. I wear no armour; I am too horribly sensitive. My skin bleeds at a touch; even flatter wounds me. Oh, the wretchedness of it! But you can be strong—at your weakest, there is a certain strength in you. With you, in time, I feel I shall grow stronger. Only I must withdraw from the struggle for a while; you must take me out of it and let me rest—recover breath, as it were. Come! Forgive me for having treated you ungratefully, almost treacherously. Tomorrow we shall begin our search for our new home. Agnes!
AGNES. I have already found a home.
LUCAS. Apart from me, you mean?