The necessity of these paltry arrangements filled her soul with shame. On the details of her escape she had hardly reflected. All such considerations were, she deemed, naturally the care of her lover, who would act with promptitude, and so as to spare her a moment’s perplexity. She had imagined everything in readiness within a few hours; on her no responsibility save that of breaking the hated bond. Inevitably she turned to the wretched thought that Bevis regarded her as a burden. Yes, he had already his mother and his sisters to support; she ought to have remembered that.
“What time would it be?” he was asking.
Unable to reply, she pursued her reflections. She had money, but how to obtain possession of it? Afterwards, when her flight was accomplished, secrecy, it appeared, would be no less needful than now. That necessity had never occurred to her; declaration of the love that had freed her seemed inevitable—nay, desirable. Her self-respect demanded it; only thus could she justify herself before his sisters and other people who knew her. They, perhaps, would not see it in the light of justification, but that mattered little; her own conscience would approve what she had done. But to steal away, and live henceforth in hiding, like a woman dishonoured even in her own eyes—from that she shrank with repugnance. Rather than that, would it not be preferable to break with her husband, and openly live apart from him, alone?
“Be honest with me,” she suddenly exclaimed. “Had you rather I didn’t come?”
“No, no! I can’t live without you—”
“But, if that is true, why haven’t you the courage to let every one know it? In your heart you must think that we are acting wrongly.”
“I don’t! I believe, as you do, that love is the only true marriage. Very well!” He made a desperate gesture. “Let us defy all consequences. For your sake—”
His exaggerated vehemence could not deceive Monica.
“What is it,” she asked, “that you most fear?”
He began to babble protestations, but she would not listen to them.