"You have known what it is to love," she moaned. "You have not known what it is to be wedded. That man is my very life! If they condemn him to a long term in prison they will, at the same time, condemn me to death. I realize how little right I have to appeal to you--but there is no other way. If you testify against us, we are ruined irreparably. Oh, Mr. Camran--Don!--if there is one bright memory in your heart in all the days you and I passed together, let that one plead now for a most unhappy woman!" I did not want her to suffer. I had no desire to punish her. Had she been unmarried I would have offered her my hand again--yes, after all I knew! "It was not by my wish that your husband was arrested," I said, gently. "In fact, I only learned of it an hour ago." "But you can save him--you, and you alone!" she cried. "What does it mean to you, the money you have lost by us? The check you gave him was never paid, not even the sum for which you wrote it. I know--I know he struck you, he tried to kill you--I know it all! but you escaped unharmed. As for me, I swear to send to-morrow every article you bought--yes, I will get even the money you have paid for my passage and hotel bills. Every penny shall be put into your hands before noon--if you will have mercy on us." "Marjorie," I answered, "I do not know what I can do, but let me assure you I will do all I can. If any act of mine will set your husband at liberty you may rely on me to perform it." She seemed hardly able to believe that she heard aright. She laughed through her tears, discordantly. "You will do this!" she exclaimed. "You are in earnest? And what are your stipulations? Oh! Remember how little I have left of womanly honor, and ask nothing I cannot grant." A whiteness had come to her lips at the sudden thought that alarmed her. "I only ask," I answered, shakingly, "that you carry out the purpose of which you spoke in your last letter; that of going far away from this part of the world--where I shall never set eyes on you again. You are to me like a dream that is past: a beautiful dream I must blot from my brain. Within a week I shall have forgotten the thorns and recall only the perfume of roses. A year later I hope to forget the roses themselves. Marjorie, you are the wife of another man. You are, by your own admission, a woman with whom it would be suicide to link my life. But I love you yet. No, do not start. This is my last word on that subject. After all, you have done something for me. From this day the love of woman will never be esteemed a light thing in my mind. A young roué has had a shock that he will not forget. His idle search for pleasure is ended. I shall be another and a better man--even because I have known you." "And you will save Jack?" she said, entreatingly. "I will do all I can--'perjure myself like a gentleman'--if necessary. I think you may be sure of having him set free within a very few days."