This new conception stunned him, left him staring at her, utterly unable to control his speech. Should he tell her? Should he confess his own equally mad mistake? the reason why all these years had passed without his seeking her? It would be useless; it would only add to her pain, her sense of wounded pride. Silence now would be mercy. "Beth," he said, controlling his voice with an effort, "let us think of all this as passed away forever. Let us not talk about it, let us not think about it any more. You have reached the height which you set out to gain; or, possibly you have not yet fully attained to your ideal, yet you have travelled far toward it. Has it satisfied? Has it filled the void in your life?" She returned his questioning look frankly. "Do you remember what I once said in a cabin out in Colorado?" "I think so; yet, to avoid mistake, repeat it now." "I told you I would give up gladly all ambition, all dreams of worldly success, just to be alone with the man I loved, and bring him happiness. To-night, as then, that is all I wish--everything." A moment neither moved nor spoke. "Beth," he whispered, as though half afraid even yet to put the question, "am I all you wish--everything?" "Yes, everything--only you must wait, Ned. I belong still to the public, and must play out my engagement. After that it shall be home, and you." They stood there facing each other, the soft light from the shaded globes overhead sparkling in her dark hair, her cheeks flushed, her eyes smiling at him through a mist of tears. Unresisted, he drew her to him.