“Oh, yes; I look it. That's the reason I can afford to be frank, in coming back to my friends. I knew that with this look in my face I should make my own welcome; and it's cordial even beyond my expectations.” “I'm not glad to see you, Halleck,” said Atherton. “For your own sake I wish you were at the other end of the world.” “Oh, I know that. How are my people? Have you seen my father lately? Or my mother? Or--Olive?” A pathetic tremor shook his voice. “Why, haven't _you_ seen them yet?” demanded Atherton. Halleck laughed cynically. “My dear friend, my steamer arrived this morning, and I'm just off the New York train. I've hurried to your office in all the impatience of friendship. I'm very lucky to find you here so late in the day! You can take me home to dinner, and let your domestic happiness preach to me. Come, I rather like the notion of that!” “Halleck,” said Atherton, without heeding his banter, “I wish you would go away again! No one knows you are here, you say, and no one need ever know it.” Halleck set his lips and shook his head, with a mocking smile. “I'm surprised at you, Atherton, with your knowledge of human nature. I've come to stay; you must know that. You must know that I had gone through everything before I gave up, and that I haven't the strength to begin the struggle over again. I tell you I'm beaten, and I'm glad of it; for there is rest in it. You would waste your breath, if you talked to me in the old way; there's nothing in me to appeal to, any more. If I was wrong--But I don't admit, any more, that I was wrong: by heaven, I was _right_!” “You _are_ beaten, Halleck,” said Atherton sorrowfully. He pushed himself back in his chair, and clasped his hands together behind his head, as his habit was in reasoning with obstinate clients. “What do you propose to do?” “I propose to stay.” “What for?” “What for? Till I can prove that he is dead.” “And then?” “Then I shall be free to ask her.” He added angrily, “You know what I've come back for: why do you torment me with these questions? I did what I could; I ran away. And the last night I saw her, I thrust her back into that hell she called her home, and I told her that no man could be her refuge from that devil, her husband,--when she had begged me in her mortal terror to go in with her, and save her from him. _That_ was the recollection I had to comfort me when I tried to put her out of my mind,--out of my soul! When I heard that he was gone, I respected her days of mourning. God knows how I endured it, now it's over; but I did endure it. I waited, and here I am. And you ask me to go away again! Ah!” He fetched his breath through his set teeth, and struck his fist on his knee. “He is _dead_! And now, if she will, she can marry me. Don't look at me as if I had killed him! There hasn't been a time in these two infernal years when I wouldn't have given my life to save his--for _her_ sake. I know that, and that gives me courage, it gives me hope.”