"Tell me this, then, Xenie. In the hour when the result of your hopes and plans became known to you--when you thought you had fully secured the revenge for which you had toiled--did your success make you happy?" "No," she answered, in low but steady tones, while her whole frame quivered with suppressed emotion. "No," he re-echoed; "revenge has not in it the elements of happiness. It is but a consuming fire that destroys everything sweet and lovely. We both have proved it; therefore, Xenie, I will have no more to do with it. I have repented in bitterness of spirit the deadly feud we waged so long against each other. The only atonement that was left to me you hold in your hand." "It was a brave atonement when you remember all that it involves for you," she cried, with a sudden remorseful pity in her voice. "You have been nobler than I have." "Perhaps it was only selfish after all," he answered, impulsively; "for, Xenie, I have been very unhappy in your unhappiness. Every arrow that was pointed at your heart has pierced mine. I have long ago realized that, no matter how terrible the loss to myself, I could never be happy save in the ultimate triumph of the woman I love." "Love!" she echoed, looking at him with a wondering, startled gaze. The blue eyes met hers, full of mad, hopeless passion, so long repressed and beaten down that now it seemed a consuming flame. "Yes, love," he answered, recklessly. "Forgive me, Xenie, but let me speak one moment. Do you think I have forgotten those brief, bright days when we loved each other? Do you think I can ever forget them? I have never ceased to love you; I never shall until this beating heart is dust and ashes! I count that one bright memory of our mutual love worth all its bitter cost!" The burning crimson flashed into her cheeks. Did he mean it--all that those impetuous words implied? "You cannot fool me with empty words," she cried. "Do I not know better? Could my love be so much to you when you threw it away for--for this that I hold in my hand?" and she threw a glance of scorn upon the paper in her grasp that represented all the vast wealth of the old millionaire. There was a moment's silence; then the pent-up heart of the man broke out into passionate words; the bird in the bough overhead hushed its song and seemed to listen.