As he had said, he would rather see her suffering than a passive slave to that sorrow and all that it entailed.
So during the dreadful hours that followed he held her to her inferno, convinced beyond all persuasion---with the stubborn conviction of an iron will--that by so doing he was acting for her welfare, even in a sense working out her salvation.
He relied upon the force of his personality to accomplish the end he had in view.

If he could break the fatal rule of things for one night only, he believed that he would have achieved the hardest part.

But the process was long and agonizing.

Only by the sternest effort of will could he keep up the pressure which he knew he must not relax for a single moment if he meant to attain the victory he desired.
There came a time when Isabel's powers of endurance were lost in the abyss of mental suffering into which she was flung, and she struggled like a mad creature for freedom.

He held her in his arms, feeling her strength wane with every paroxysm, till at last she lay exhausted, only feebly entreating him for the respite he would not grant.
But even when the bitter conflict was over, when she was utterly conquered at last, and he laid her down, too weak for further effort, he did not gather the fruits of victory.