“All my life I have lived extravagantly,” she answered. “Why should I change now? I have but a few years to live. I cannot bear small rooms, or cheap servants, or bad cooking.”
“We have some money left,” he said. “Come with me into the country. We can live there for very little. Soon my book will be ready. Then the lectures will begin. There will be money enough when people begin to understand.”
“No!” she said. “There is only one way. I have spoken of it to you before. You must marry that foolish girl Lois Champneyes.”
“What do you know about her?” he asked, looking up, startled.
“I have made inquiries,” Rachael answered. “It is the usual thing in the countries I know of. She will be of age in a short time, and she will have one hundred and seventy thousand pounds. Upon that you can live until our time comes, and you can afford to keep this house going.”
“I do not want to marry,” he said.
Her hand shot out towards him—an accusing hand; her eyes flashed fire as she leaned forward, gripping the arm of the chair with her other fingers.
“Listen,” she said, “I took you from the gutter. I saved you from starvation. I showed you the way to ease and luxury. I taught you things which have set your brain working, which shall fashion for you, if you dare to follow it, the way to greatness. I saved your life. I planted your feet upon the earth. Your life is mine. Your future is mine. What is this sacrifice that I demand? Nothing! Don’t refuse me. I warn you, Bertrand, don’t refuse me! There are limits to my patience as there are limits to my generosity and my affection. If you refuse, it can be but for one reason, and that reason you will not dare to tell me. Do you refuse? Answer me, now, I will have no more evasions.”
“She would not marry me,” he said. “I have not seen her for days.”