“Thank the fates, and that giddy girl, for this supreme moment,” he began, in a low, passionate tone; adding: “Gladys, have you forgotten our last private interview at Vassar?” Gladys looked up at him, both startled and indignant. “I should be glad to forget it, Mr. Mapleson, if you would allow me to do so, for your sake as well as my own,” she returned, with cold dignity. “I do not _wish_ you to forget it, Gladys,” he returned, with increasing fervor, “for I love you a hundred fold more to-night, and I must unburden my heart to you, or it will burst.” “Mr. Mapleson!” Gladys said, half rising from her chair, a flash of anger in her eyes, “you shall not say such things to me; you know you have no right——” “I _have_ a right,” he interposed, hotly; “a right because of my deathless love and my indomitable purpose to win yours in return.” “You cannot! how dare you?” Gladys began again, but he would not let her go on. “I dare, because I _must_ dare or _die_! oh! Gladys, I love you so! have pity on me!” he said, and his voice died away in an agonized whisper, showing how terribly in earnest he was. The young girl was deathly pale now, and trembling in every limb; but she faced him with blazing eyes and curling lips, her perfect form proudly erect. “You are no gentleman,” she said, scornfully, “to say such words to one who, in less than two weeks, will be the wife of another man; to take advantage of me during the absence of my friends, and in a place like this force such a declaration upon me.” “I could not help it; I had no other time; you avoid me upon every occasion,” he returned, the blood flushing his face hotly at her scorn. “I have no choice; your looks, your acts all compel me to——” “I cannot help them—when I am near you I forget everything but that I love you!” he pleaded in excuse. “Shame! Where is your sense of honor, that you persist in such language to the affianced of another?” she panted. “Twice you have thrown that in my teeth,” he retorted, fiercely, and fast losing control of himself. “Have you no shame, that you confess yourself the affianced of a nameless outcast?” “He is not nameless, and you have no authority for calling him an outcast,” retorted Gladys, proudly, all her spirit rising to arms at this attack upon her absent lover.