I thought you would see that I wanted to please you—and that you would do something for me in return.…”
Amherst interrupted her with a laugh. “Thank you for telling me your real reasons. I was fool enough to think you acted from conviction—not that you were simply striking a bargain”
He broke off, and they looked at each other with a kind of fear, each hearing between them the echo of irreparable words. Amherst’s only clear feeling was that he must not speak again till he had beaten down the horrible sensation in his breast—the rage of hate which had him in its grip, and which made him almost afraid, while it lasted, to let his eyes rest on the fair weak creature before him. Bessy, too, was in the clutch of a mute anger which slowly poured its benumbing current around her heart. Strong waves of passion did not quicken her vitality: she grew inert and cold under their shock. Only one little pulse of self-pity continued to beat in her, trembling out at last on the cry: “Ah, I know it’s not because you care so much for Westmore—it’s only because you want to get away from me!”
Amherst stared as if her words had flashed a light into the darkest windings of his misery. “Yes—I want to get away.…” he said; and he turned and walked out of the room.
He went down to the smoking-room, and ringing
[ 325 ]
