"You don't know what you are saying. This miserable business--whatever it is--has gone to your head. I--I--I--"
She stammers in excitement. Braine rises and speaks entreatingly:
"No, I know what I am asking of you. It is not pleasant, to be sure. It hurts me worse than it can you, but, Helen--" with a desperate impulse--"Helen, this has _got_ to be done. I _must_ have Everet's support. Things have come to a desperate pass. There is no other way. When I saw you controlling his every thought to-night, it seemed like a sudden interposition of Providence. All the care and worry, that have gripped me like a dragon those late weeks, seemed to slip from me. I knew if you would do this, I was secure. I appeal to you, child. If you love me, you _must_ consent to aid me in this. It is _your_ happiness, _your_ advancement as well as my own, that I ask you to achieve--"
"I am satisfied. I don't want to advance."
"Helen--Helen--" Braine holds out his hands to her, "you don't understand all you say. You _do_ want it. If you were deprived of all this luxury and position, it would ruin your happiness--and yet, a few years ago you said as you do now--'I don't want it.' Could you live without it?"
"No. Not now. But I could if I had never known it--I--"
"You _had_ to know it. You _should_. Of all women in the world you are the one best fitted for command, and for all that I am straining every nerve to gain for you. I do not sleep an hour, uninterruptedly. I wake, to plan and contrive after this end. I eat mechanically. I speak so, except under circumstances when my words will count. I make no acquaintance, no friend save that I may turn him to account. I deny myself honest affection in every association, that sentiment may never interfere at a critical hour--all this that I may see you where you deserve to be. I ask but one little thing of you. I implore it. This one effort on your part, and we have gained all. Helen--"
He is quivering with excitement. His eyes burn like coals of fire, and grow dark and scintillating.
The woman opposite him stands like a statue. There is not a vestige of color in her face. She turns slowly, and motions him from the room without a word.
_February, --._ Breakfasted this morning in my own room. Could not entertain the thought of ever seeing or speaking to Edgar again.