Errington looked at her in silence for a moment, and then, without a word, walked towards the door of the room, at which he paused.
"I have implored and entreated you to be merciful," he said, with terrible calmness, "you have refused to grant what I ask. Now I go back to London, to Mrs. Veilsturm, the woman you despise so much. You have driven me to this, and the result of it rests on your own head. You do not love me, you never have loved me, so I leave you alone in your immaculate purity, to forget the man whom you have despised and wronged."
He was gone before she could utter a word, and she was left alone in the room, alone in the world, with nothing but her child to comfort her in the hour of need.
[CHAPTER XXIX.]
THE QUESTION OF MARRIAGE.
"The sea is cruel, its white waves hide me,
Lo I am weary and scant of breath,
Thou to a haven of safety guide me,
Stretch out thy hand, lest I swoon to death.
"Thou art my God in this hour of peril,
Yet in thy sight, I am lost and vile,
All thy love, as the sea is sterile,
I sink, I perish, beneath thy smile."
There are always two sides to a question, especially to the question of marriage.
One side is invariably taken by the husband, the other by the wife.
Both claim their side to be right, and, as this is an impossibility, one side must be wrong.