"What is it?" asked Arthur. There was no capitulation in his face or his voice.
"I want you to make to Isabel a full retraction and explanation of every falsehood you have uttered to her or to me in this matter." Leonard was pale again; Arthur burned red a moment, and then turned paler than Leonard.
"You fiend!" gasped the husband. "I am to exalt you, and abase myself, to her?"
"No. No, Arthur. Women are strange; every chance is that in her eyes I shall be abased." The speaker went whiter than ever.
"But be that as it may, you shall have lifted your soul out of the mire. You must do it, Arthur; don't you see you must?"
Arthur sank into the chair at his side. He seemed to have guessed what Leonard was keeping unsaid. A moisture of anguish stood on his brow. Yet—
"I will die before I will do it," he said.
Leonard drew forth the letter, and then his watch. "Arthur Winslow, I give you five minutes. If you don't make me that promise in that time, I shall this day show this letter to your bishop."