I didn't come to see you. I came for money. And
that's all. The whole thing's hopeless."
"It was my fault this time, Louis. I went to bed and left you. If I'd
not been so proud and so huffy I'd have kept you."
"Yes, but only for a time, dear. I saw it all in a flash to-night when
you lay there and I thought you were dead. Marcella, no savage would
have done that--hurting you just now."
"What rubbish! If you hadn't done it to me I would have done it to you,"
she said easily.
"Don't you see how hopeless it is? The very first time I go near whisky,
I want it. And this happens. I was a madman to-night. It means that
we've got to stick here for the rest of our lives. I daren't even go to
the store to fetch things for you when you're ill. I have to hide in a
hole like a fox when the dogs are after it."
"After all, is it so very horrible here, Louis?" she whispered. "I think
it's been heaven. Our Castle, and the clearing--and next month my seeds
that Dr. Angus sent will be coming up. And the baby, Louis! Just think
of the millions of things we've got!"
But he knew better than she did the torment of his weakness and refused
to be comforted. He was near suicide that night; he too had been happy,
happier than ever in his tormented, unfriended life before. He had the
terrible torture of knowing that it was he who had brought the cloud
into their sky; he had the terror before him, with him, of knowing that
he would keep on bringing clouds, all the more black because they both
so loved the sunshine.
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