“Thank God!” exclaimed the lawyer, “in time to save you both.”
“Sir,” said Horatio, “may we not be permitted to die in peace?”
“You know not,” said Ouida, “the grief you have prolonged.”
“You told me yesterday to sell ‘The Modern Hercules,’” said Salmon, breathlessly. “I have found a purchaser.”
“Then sell it,” said Ouida, “and dig our graves in decency.”
“Sell it rather,” said Salmon, in deepest sympathy, “and with the proceeds begin life anew.”
“Our lives have run their course. We can no longer hold up beneath the world’s black frown,” said Horatio.
“That is the talk of the moral coward,” said Salmon, boldly. “Come, I know your story. Draw out your strength, your manhood. Fate brought me here in time. You both shall live to look upon this hour with shame.”
“He is right,” said Ouida, arousing herself with mighty effort. “Look up, my love, we may yet wring from fortune’s grasp a noble fate. Where is the purchaser?”