“Have we not been getting along happily here?” he demanded.

“No, I have not—­I have been wretched.  And I cannot have any peace until you no longer haunt me.  I am sorry for you, but I must be alone—­and so long as you are here the entertainments will continue.”

“We could make it clear that we did not care for entertainments.  We could find some quiet place near your people, where we could live in peace.”

“Douglas,” she said, “I have spoken to Cousin Harley.  He is ready to go hunting with you.  Please call him up and make arrangements to start to-morrow.  If you are still here the following day, I shall leave for one of Uncle Mandeville’s plantations.”

There was a long silence.  “Sylvia,” he said, at last, “how long do you imagine this behaviour of yours can continue?”

“It will continue forever.  My mind is made up.  It is necessary that you make up yours.”

Again he waited, while he made sure of his self-control.  “You propose to keep the baby with you?” he asked, at last.

“For the present, yes.  The baby cannot get along without me.”

“And for the future?”

“We will make a fair arrangement as to that.  Give me a little time to get myself together, and then I will come and live somewhere near you in New York, and I will arrange it so that you can see the child as often as you please.  I have no desire to take her from you—­I only want to take myself from you.”

“Sylvia,” he said, “have you realized all the unhappiness this course of yours is going to bring to your people?”

“Oh, don’t begin that now!” she pleaded.

“I know,” he said, “how determined you are to punish me.  But I should think you would try to find some way to spare them.”

“Douglas,” she replied, “I know exactly what you have been doing.  I have watched your change of character since you came here.  You may be able to make my people so unhappy that I must be unhappy also.  You see how deeply I love them, how I yield everything for love of them.  But let me make it clear, I will not yield this.  It was for their sake I went into this marriage, but I have come to see that it was wrong, and no power on earth can induce me to stay in it.  My mind is made up—­I will not live with a man I do not love.  I will not even pretend to do it.  Now do you understand me, Douglas?”

There was a silence, while she waited for some word from him.  When none came, she asked, “You will arrange to go to-morrow?”

He answered calmly, “I see no reason why I, your husband, should permit you to pursue this insane course.  You propose to leave me; and the reason you give is one that would, if it were valid, break up two-thirds of the homes in the country.  Your own family will stand by me in my effort to prevent your ruin.”

“What do you expect to do?” she asked in a suppressed voice.

“I have to assume that my wife is insane; and I shall look after her till she comes to her senses.”