"But Colonel Goff," she went on, "gentleman that he is, thinks he must settle the account for his blundering ride, and begs me to marry him anyway; I, a cripple for life. He forgets that God balanced it when he stopped me from the sin of selling my heart for—for—his bauble— "I have sent him away satisfied, Jack. I believe he would love me truly," and she smiled, "now that he sees that I cannot ride. Love me for myself and not for my riding; but I shall love only you, Jack, till I die—the old crippled woman." She was silent for a moment. "And the compensation for my admitting it—you know it is costing me something—you don’t know how hard it is for me to say it first, Jack; but the compensation I claim, will you give it to your little lame girl? It is this, and now nod your head, say ’_yes_’ Jack. I’ve seen—Elsie loves you, and you must—you must marry the child. She is everything you want, and you half-way love her already. It will be easy now, Jack, promise it; for your sake—for both your sakes, I’m asking. Promise me, Jack, I want to see you happy." She had my hand against her cheek, fondling it. Her eyes had never seemed so beautiful. [Illustration: "LOVE IS NOT LOVE THAT ALTERS."] "Do you remember the kind of love I said I had for you that first night after I came home?" She pressed my hand against her cheek again. "And the kind you said you’d never felt, but would give your life to feel?" Again I felt the pressure. "That kind which I told you of, and which I have had for you all the time, is that kind that Shakespeare told of when he said: "’Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.’ "That’s the kind I have for you, Eloise—have always had; and do you remember the love you said you wanted, you’d give your life for, yourself, your soul and your body. ’_I, who wish it so, to be widowed of it all my life_’—those were your words. How they cut into my heart—that love, Eloise, can’t you see? Don’t you know that it is yours and you are widowed of it no longer?" She put her arms around my neck and pulled my face down to hers, smothering her mouth in my kisses. "Oh, Jack, why did you say it—see it? Why did you not let me fool myself—fool you? Why—and—oh, if you had only not seen it—not let me know you saw it! Love? Don’t you know now that the kind I said I’d have is as I said it was? Worth life—worth death—worth all—worth all—then God help me, Jack, if I sin—God forgive me, but I’d rather hold it to my heart a helpless cripple that I am—hold it never to satisfy it—never to know what it means, helpless, bed-ridden cripple that I am than to be the well, strong thing I was without it. Oh, Jack, don’t you know now what I mean?" She kissed me again and again, holding my cheek to hers.