"Yes, I know. I don't congratulate you."
"I have not counted upon that honor, Richard. I shall have to do without it."
"You'll have to do without a great many things!" cried Richard, horrified by what seemed to him her blind self-immolation.
"I have all I ask," said Gertrude.
"You haven't all I ask then! You haven't all your friends ask."
"My friends are very kind, but I marry to suit myself."
"You've not suited yourself!" retorted the young man. "You've suited—God knows what!—your pride, your despair, your resentment." As he looked at her, the secret history of her weakness seemed to become plain to him, and he felt a mighty rage against the man who had taken a base advantage of it. "Gertrude!" he cried, "I entreat you to go back. It's not for my sake,—I'll give you up,—I'll go a thousand miles away, and never look at you again. It's for your own. In the name of your happiness, break with that man! Don't fling yourself away. Buy him off, if you consider yourself bound. Give him your money. That's all he wants."
As Gertrude listened, the blood came back to her face, and two flames into her eyes. She looked at Richard from head to foot. "You are not weak,"
