"Cannot!" he cried. "I will take you. You love me."
"I am married."
"Married! Do you mean that you would let that man stand between you and happiness?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, in a frightened voice.
"Just what I say," he cried, with incredible vehemence. "Leave him —divorce him. You cannot live with him. He isn't worthy to touch your hand."
The idea planted itself with the force of a barbed arrow from a strong-bow. Struggle as she might, she could not henceforth extract it.
"Oh!" she cried.
He took her arm, gently, and forced her to sit down on the wall. Such was the completeness of his mastery that she did not resist. He sat down beside her.
"Listen, Honora," he said, and tried to speak calmly, though his voice was still vibrant; "let us look the situation in the face. As I told you once, the days of useless martyrdom are past. The world is more enlightened today, and recognizes an individual right to happiness."
"To happiness," she repeated after him, like a child. He forgot his words as he looked into her eyes: they were lighted as with all the candles of heaven in his honour.