Perhaps I would not have done what I did, had it not been for that money. I would have fought more, perhaps, and might have gained him back. But now — I could not. I had no right. If he ever came back to me, how would I know whether it was love or thankfulness for my "sacrifice" and the resolution to sacrifice himself in his turn? How would I know that he was not ruining his happiness to recompense me for that money?
I must give him up now — voluntarily and myself. I must give him up — because he owed me too much. I had no right to my husband any more — because I had done too much for him...
I must act now. But what to do? Offer him a divorce? He will not accept it. Tell him I do not love him? He will not believe.
I took off my hat; I could not keep it on. Little drops of rain fell on my forehead and the wind blew my hair — it was such a relief!
I saw a light in the window of Henry's study as I approached our house. I went in noiselessly, not to disturb him. And when I passed by the door of his study, I heard a sound that made my heart stop. I approached the door and looked through the opening, not believing my ears. Sitting at the desk with his arms on his plans and his head on his arms, Henry was sobbing. I saw his back, which shuddered, racked by deep, desperate sobs.
I made a step from the door. I looked before me with senseless eyes...
"... He might be miserable as a starving dog now — he could not show it!"
I knew what I had to do. He will not believe that I do not love him? I must make him believe it!...
I went up to my room. I entered it mad, horrified, desperate. I came out in the morning, quiet and calm. What had gone on in me during that night — I will never speak about it with any living creature.
"What is the matter, Irene?" asked Henry, looking into my face, when I came downstairs in the morning.
"Nothing," I answered. "It was a bad dream; it's over now."
I was conscious of one thing only then: I must find a way, an opportunity to prove to Henry my unfaithfulness, so that there should remain no doubt. I found that opportunity. It came the same day.
I returned home after being out, and, entering the hall, I heard a voice in Henry's study. I knew that voice. It was Claire Van Dahlen. I was not astonished. I approached the study door calmly and listened, looking through the keyhole. She was there. I saw her long, bright-green silk shawl on a tan suit. She was perfectly beautiful.
I heard Henry's voice: "Once more, I ask you to leave my house, Mrs. Van Dahlen. I do not want to see you. Do you not understand this?"
"No, I don't, Mr. Stafford," she answered. She looked at him with half-closed eyes. "You are a coward," she said slowly.
He made a step towards her and I saw him. His face was white and, even from the distance where I was, I could see his lips tremble.
"Go away," he said in a strangled voice.
She opened her eyes wholly then. They had a strange look of passion, command, and immense tenderness, that she tried to hide. "Henry..." she said slowly, and her voice seemed velvet like her body.
"Mrs. Van Dahlen..." he muttered, stepping back.
She approached him more. "You cannot fight... I love you, Henry!... I want you!"
He was unable to speak. She continued, with a haughty, lightly mocking smile: "You love me and you know it, as well as I. Will you dare to deny it?"
There was torture in his eyes that I could not look upon; and, as though he felt it, he covered them with his hand. "Why did you come here!" he groaned.
She smiled. "Because I want you!" she answered. "Because I love you, Henry, I love you!" She slowly put her hands on his shoulders. "Tell me, Henry, do you love me?" she whispered.
He tore his hand from his eyes. "Yes!... Yes!... Yes!..." he cried. He seized her wildly in his arms and pressed his lips to hers with a desperate greediness.
I was not stricken. There was nothing new for me in all this. But to see him kiss her — it was hard. I closed my eyes. That was all.
"I expected it long ago," she said at last, with her arms embracing him more passionately than she wanted to show.
But he pushed her aside, suddenly and resolutely. "You will never see me again," he said sternly.
"I will see you tonight," she answered. "I will wait for you at nine o'clock at the Excelsior."
"I shall not come!"
"You shall!"
"Never!...Never!"
"I ask you a favor, Henry... Till nine o'clock!" And she walked out of the study. I had just time to throw myself behind a curtain-When I looked into his room again, Henry had fallen on a chair, his head in his hands. I saw all his despair in the fingers that clutched his hair convulsively.
I had found my opportunity. Now — I had to act.
I went to my room, took off my hat and overcoat. I moved towards the door, to go downstairs, to Henry... and begin. Then I stopped. "Do you realize," I muttered to myself, "do you understand whom and what you are going to lose?" I opened my mouth to take a breath.