The remembrance of that meeting was too much.
Rachel turned her eyes on Lady Newhaven, who was watching her terror-stricken.
"I said I would not give him up, but I will," she said, violently. "You can take him if you want him. What was it you said to me, Hugh? That if you had drawn the short lighter you would have had to abide by it. Yes, that was it. Your whole intercourse with me has been one lie from first to last. You were right, Violet, when you said he ought to marry you. It will be another lie on the top of all the others."
"It was what Edward wished," faltered his widow. "He says so in the letter that has just been burned."
"Lord Newhaven wished it," said Rachel, looking at the miserable man between them. "Poor Lord Newhaven! First his honor. Then his life. You have taken everything he had. But there are still his shoes."
"Rachel!" said Hugh, suddenly, and he fell on his knees before her, clasping the hem of her gown.
She pushed him violently from her, tearing her gown in releasing it from his frenzied grasp.
"Leave me," she whispered. Her voice was almost gone. "Coward and liar, I will have nothing more to do with you."
He got upon his feet somehow. The two gray desperate faces spent with passion faced each other. They were past speech.
He read his death-warrant in her merciless eyes. She looked at the despair in his without flinching.