an untutored girl, which eats into its own vitals, and drains its own lees,--as mine for you,--but that deeper, better, higher, more enduring, and well-nigh perfect affection of the full-lived woman, who out of deep suffering has emerged into an enlightened conception of her own nature's needs, her own heart's craving for what is best, truest, most God-like in a man! That love, which will wear well, nor grow threadbare through time, which will take on a more wondrous glow in the realms of eternity, is the love I feel for Rube!" "Bah!" he exclaimed, not yet quenched, not yet hopeless. "Eternity is a long word, and all your fine talking cannot deceive _me!_ Oh, woman, woman, what a face you have, and what brains! I do not know which holds me tighter. That face so fair, that mind so subtle--together they might well turn the head of the devil himself, but they cannot deceive _me!_ The string which draws you is golden. It is not Rube you love so much, so purely, so perfectly; oh, no, not Rube! Not Rube, but his possessions. Not the man--the man's house! Its beautiful turrets and gables, its gardens and lawns, its lovely views, and spacious luxury, and abounding wealth. For that you give me up. Still loving me, Rube's pelf is dearer still!" "Not now--not now! Now I love _him_--the man! Not for what he has, but for what he is. For his truth, his nobility, his honor; and, as that honor is in my keeping, I bid you go and return no more. Your power to tempt me from my duty _and my love_ is over! My faith is grounded, my purpose unalterable. Go!" "This is folly. Come with me!" he cried, striving to draw her towards the door. She resisted. "Come!" he urged. She broke from him, crying: "No, by heaven! Were it the only chance to save my own life, I would not go! I have done with you now, forever!" "Good-night, then," he told her, with a bitter sneer and a low, mocking bow. "Good-night; but you will be sorry for this! You will regret this night's work all the days of your life. Its memory will darken the brightest day of your life!" She did not speak, or move, as he turned upon his heel and left her. There sounds his foot upon the stair, and next upon the gravelled walk! And now the garden-gate swings open, and the carriage-door bangs shut, after which the wheels grate upon the pebbles, and the clatter of horses' hoofs rings out upon the midnight air. Gone! Gone! Her head reels; all her senses seem benumbed. Not even a heavy tread through the dark entry did she hear. It was the clasp of strong arms around her which woke her from her trance. She turned, exclaiming in alarm: "Rube! You here! You--you have heard?"