“Oh God, oh God! what shall I do?” he moaned.
He turned away quickly, and sinking in a chair, hid his face and burst into tears. He sobbed uncontrollably, with all the agony and the despair of a man who has cast shame from him.
“Paul, Paul, for Heaven’s sake don’t cry; I can’t bear it.” She went up to him, and tried to take away his hands. “Don’t think of me now; you can do what you like with me afterwards. Think of these wretched people. You can’t send them away now.”
He pushed her away more gently, and stood up.
“No, I can’t send them away now. I must tell Bridger that he and the girl can stay.”
“Go to them at once,” she implored. “The man’s heart is breaking, and you can give him happiness. Don’t let them wait a minute longer.”
“Yes, I’ll go to him at once.”
Paul Castillyon seemed now to have no will of his own, but acted as though under some foreign impulse. He went to the door, walking heavily as if grown suddenly old, and Grace saw him go out into the rain, and disappear into the mist of the approaching night. She stood at the window wondering what he would do, and imagined with a shiver of dismay the shame of proceedings for divorce; she looked at the great trees of Jeyston as though for the last time, and tried to picture to herself the life that awaited her. Reggie would make no offer of marriage, nor, if he did, would she accept, since no trace remained of her vehement passion, and she thought of him merely with loathing. She hoped the case, going undefended, would excite small attention; and afterwards she was rich enough in her own right to live on the Continent as she chose. At all events, peace of sorts would be hers, and she could drag out somehow the rest of her years; she was thankful now that she had no child from whom separation would be unendurable. Wearily Grace pressed her eyes.
“What a fool I’ve been!” she cried.
Quickly the events of her life marshalled themselves before her, and she looked back with shame and horror on her old self, flippant and egoistic, worthless.