He dropped her hands and gave a hoarse laugh.
“If you had really meant it I should have killed you,” he replied. “Did I marry you for you to fail me at the extreme moment? You know the price you pay for your present position.”
“Aye, Luke,” she replied, “I do know the price, and I’ll pay it gladly to the last drop of my heart’s blood if only you on your part will fulfil your side of the bargain.”
“What is that?”
“I want your love and you have never given it to me.”
“That was never in the bargain, Clara.”
“In words it never was, but oh, you must have guessed.”
She suddenly fell on her knees, her hands were clasped together, she looked up at him imploringly.
“Do you think I would do what I did—that I would make myself a by-word, a disgrace, one of the cruellest women in existence, if I had not hoped to win your love? Do you think I would do what I did simply for position, a fine house, money? You do not know me. Oh, Luke, Luke, give me what I crave for. Sometimes I think my heart will break. I would gladly do evil, commit crime for you, but not when you are cold, cold as ice to me.”
“Get up, Clara,” said Tarbot. “I cannot listen to your words of folly. As to my loving you, understand once for all that it is absolutely out of the question. I do what I do because—no, even to you I will not tell that part. I have my reasons.”