"We will not talk any more," he said, kindly. "Henceforth let everything connected with this subject be dead between us; that woman's name must never be mentioned here; her very memory must be swept out of the dwelling she has dishonored. You and I will bury the past, Elsie, and place a heavy stone over the tomb; will you remember that, child?" "Yes, yes; anything! Do what you please; I cannot struggle any longer; it is not my fault." "Indeed no, darling! You are tender and forgiving as an angel! Oh, Elsie, in all the world yours is the only true heart I have found." She lay there and allowed him to speak those words; she suffered terribly in her shallow, cowardly way, but she could not force her soul to be courageous even then. In time her volatile nature might turn determinedly from the dark tragedy. She probably would convince herself that she was powerless; that, since it could do no good to grieve over Elizabeth and her mournful fate, it was better that she should dismiss all recollection of it from her mind, drown her regrets, enjoy such pleasures as presented themselves, and build up a new world between her and the past. But as yet she could not do that; she was completely unnerved and incapable of any resolution. She writhed there in pitiable pain and caught at every straw for comfort. "You won't forget your promise, Grant?" "What, dear?" "To send money--that she may live, you know." "I will not forget, rest satisfied. I will attend to it this very day; don't think about that any more." "How can I help thinking? You might as well tell me not to breathe; I must think!" "The end has come; it can do no good to look back!" Almost the very words Elizabeth had so many times repeated during those last terrible days; the recollection went like a dagger to Elsie's soul. It was a long time before she could be restored to anything like composure; then Mellen forbade her to talk, fearing the consequences of continued excitement. "You can sleep, now, darling; you will be better in the morning." "And you will take me away from here, Grant?" "Yes, dear; whenever you like." "I don't care about the place--the farther the better! I cannot stay in this house--I should die here. But not to Europe--oh, you won't take me to Europe?" He only thought the sudden terror in her voice rose from a fear of the voyage or some similar weakness. "You shall choose, Elsie; just where you please. We will go to the West Indies--as you say, the farther the better." "Yes, Grant, yes." "Now shut your eyes and go to sleep." "You won't leave me," she pleaded. "No; I shall stay near you all night." "It is so dreadful," she went on, glancing wildly about the room; "I should go mad to wake up and find myself alone." "You shall not, dear; indeed you shall not." She grew quiet then; after a little time he heard Victoria in the hall, and went out to speak with her.