_I_ sit here silent because I am convinced that it is all my fault?"

He did not answer her at once but continued to pace the floor; at length
he jerked out:

"No, I was at fault too. I've a nasty temper. I should have had more
patience with you, Evelyn--but it was so hard to deny you anything you
wanted that I could possibly give you--I'd have laid the whole world at
your feet if I could!"

"I believe you would, Marsh--then!" she said.

"It's a pity you didn't understand me," he answered indifferently.

Nothing he could say led in the direction he would have had it lead, for
he wanted her to realize her part in what had happened, to know that the
burden beneath which he had gone down was in a measure the work of her
hands. His instinct was as primitive as a child's fear of the dark; he
must escape from the horror of his isolation; his secret was made
doubly terrifying because he knew he dared not share it with any living
creature. Yet his mind played strange tricks with him; he was ready to
risk much that he might learn what part of the truth he could tell her;
he was even ready to risk all in a dumb brute impulse to gather up the
remnants of his strength of heart and brain, and be the center of some
widespread catastrophe; to put his fear in her soul just as it was in
his own. How was she ever to comprehend the horror that held him in its
cruel grasp, the thousand subtle shades of thought and feeling that had
led up to this thing, from the memory of which he revolted! He turned
his bloodshot eyes upon her, something of the old light was there along
with the new; he had indeed loved her, but the fruit of this love had