"You do not--you can not. It means the downfall of all your hopes, your desires, your plans."
"I tell you I no longer care for things like those."
"You do not mean it--you can not. What! can you come down from being Lady Chetwynde to plain Hilda Krieff?"
"I have implied that, I believe," said Hilda, in the same tone. "Now you understand me. Go and pull me down as fast as you like."
"But," said Gualtier, more excitedly, "you do not know what you are saying. There is something more in store for you than mere humiliation--something worse than a change in station--something more terrible than ruin itself. You are a criminal. You know it. It is for this that you must give your account. And, remember, such crimes as yours are not common ones. Such victims as the Earl of Chetwynde and Zillah are not those whom one can sacrifice with impunity. It is such as these that will be traced back to you, and woe be to you when their blood is required at your hands! Can you face this prospect? Is this future so very indifferent to you? If you have nothing like remorse, are you also utterly destitute of fear?"
"Yes," said Hilda.
"I don't believe it," said Gualtier, rudely.
"That is because you think I have no alternative," said Hilda; "it is a mistake into which a base and cowardly nature might naturally fall."
"You have no alternative," said Gualtier. "It's impossible."
"I have," said Hilda, calmly.