"Reflection is unnecessary," I answered quickly. "I know that I love you truly. That surely is sufficient." "It might be if I were free," she responded in a low, hoarse voice. "But I tell you to-day, Frank, as I told you before, this love dream of ours is impossible of realisation." "Then you do reciprocate my love?" I cried, in joyous eagerness. "Come, tell me. Do not keep me longer in suspense." "I have already told you," she answered in a low, intense voice. "Of what use is it to continue this painful discussion?" "Of every use," I cried in desperation. "Give me one word of hope, Eva. Tell me that some day you will try and love me better than you do now; that some day in the future you will become my wife. Tell me--" "No! no!" she cried, snatching her hand away and receding from me. "No, Frank, I cannot--I will not lie to you." "Then can you never love me--never?" I cried despairingly. "Never," she answered hoarsely, and her answer struck deep into my heart. "I have sinned--sinned before God and before man--and love no longer knows a place in my heart," and her fine head was bowed before me. "Sinned!" I gasped. "What do you mean?" "I am as a social leper," she panted, raising her head and looking at me with wild, unnatural gaze. "If you knew the dark and awful truth you would shun me rather than kiss my hand. Yet you say you love me--you! who would have so great a cause to hate me if you knew the ghastly truth!" "But," I cried, wondering at these strange words, and with my suspicions again aroused, "I do love you, nevertheless, Eva. I shall always love you, I swear it, for my very life is yours." "Your life!" she echoed in a weird, harsh voice, as she stood, pale-faced, swaying before me, her hands clasped to her breast, her lips cold and white. "Yes," she said, in a strange, half-hysterical tone. "Yes, it is true, too true, alas! that your future is in my hands. Only by a miracle have you come back to life, a grim shadow of a crime to taunt, to defy, to denounce. Ah! Frank, you do not know the terrible truth; you will never know--never!" I was bewildered. Horror possessed me. The darkness of an irreversible fact spread over her and made her terrible to me. All must be given up. Conscience pronounced this dread decree and multiplied the pain a thousand times. Destiny had once more taken me by the elbow. CHAPTER NINETEEN. EVA MAKES A CONFESSION. "Why may I not know the truth?" I asked the blanched and agitated woman before me. Her involuntary declaration that I had only returned to life by little short of a miracle was in itself clear proof that she was aware of the attempt made to assassinate me. I therefore determined to question her further and ascertain whether Boyd's grave suspicion had any absolute foundation. "You know, Eva," I went on, standing before her with my hand upon her shoulder in deep earnestness, "you know how strong is my affection; you know that you are all the world to me."