He held her hands still, crushing them within his own, yet the color, the hope which had brightened his face, faded.  A moment the two sat silent, their eyes meeting, searching the depths.

“Beth,” he asked at last, “is this right?”

“Is what right?”

“That you should cast such a burden upon me.  I told you I could not be your conscience.  All my desire, all my hope tends in one direction.  That which to you appears wrong, to me seems the only right course.  My heart responded eagerly to every word of renunciation spoken out there in your indignation.  They were just and true.  They gave me courage to believe the battle was over; that in soul and heart you were at last free.”

She lowered her eyes in confusion to the floor, her bosom rising and falling to quick breathing.

“And now you discover me hesitating, undecided,” she whispered, her lips trembling.  “I know I am; there are moments when I hold myself unworthy of love.  Yet believe me, I am honest, sincere, unselfish in all my thought regarding you.  Perhaps the trouble is that I know myself, my nature, far too well; I dare not trust it to bring you happiness, unless I can come to you with unsullied conscience.”

“Is it thought of divorce which yet remains so repugnant?”

She glanced up into his questioning face, her own cheeks flushing.

“I shrink from it in actual pain,” she confessed, in instant frankness.  “My whole nature revolts.  Believe me, I am not blind, not insensible; I recognize the truth—­all you would tell me—­of the inalienable rights of womanhood.  Neglect, distrust, brutality, open insult have all been my portion.  The thousands all over the world accept these as worthy reasons for breaking their marriage vows.  But can I?  Can I who have ever condemned those others for doing so?  Can I, who have ever held that sacrament to be sacred and enduring?  And I realize that the temptation has not come because of the wrongs done to me.  He has been all this before, many, many times, yet I have remained true and loyal, not questioning my duty.  It is the birth of a new love—­God alone knows if I should say a guilty love—­which has thus changed me, which has brought to my mind dreams of release.  I pray you, try to understand me!  How could happiness ever prove my portion, or yours through me, while such questionings continued to haunt my soul like ghosts?”

He released her clinging hands, turning away from her, his eyes staring unseeing out of the window.  A moment she continued looking at him, her dry eyes anxiously pleading.  Then she buried her face within her hands and waited, her whole body trembling.  Twice Winston sought to speak, before sufficient courage came to him to allow of his turning back, and looking down upon her bowed figure.