“David, it is you who are killing yourself,” the girl moaned in answer. He did not reply, but there came a long, long silence, in which he seemed to be sinking still deeper; and when he went on it was in a shuddering voice that made Helen's heart stop. “Oh, it is no use,” he gasped, “it is no use! Listen, Helen, there was another secret that I kept from you, because it was too fearful; but I can keep it no more, I can fight no more!” He stopped; the girl had clutched his arm, and was staring into his face, whispering his name hoarsely. At last he went on in his cruel despair, “I knew this years ago, too, and I knew that I was bringing it upon you--the misery of this wretched, dying body. Oh, it hurts--it hurts now!” And he put his hand over his heart, as a look of pain came into his face. “It cannot stand much more, my heart,” he panted; “the time must come--they told me it would come years ago! And then--and then--” The man stopped, because he was looking at Helen; she had not made a sound, but her face had turned so white, and her lips were trembling so fearfully that he dared not go on; she gave a loud, choking cry and burst out wildly, “Oh, David--David--it is fiendish--you have no right to punish me so! Oh, have mercy upon me, for you are killing me! You have no right to do it, I tell you it is a crime; you promised me your love, and if you loved me you would live for my sake, you would think of me! A thing so cruel ought not to be--it cannot be right--God could never have meant a human soul to suffer so! And there must be pardon in the world, there must be light--it cannot all be torture like this!” She burst into a flood of tears and flung herself upon David's bosom, sobbing again and again, “Oh, no, no, it is too fearful, oh, save me, save me!” He did not answer her; as she looked up at him again she saw the same look of fearful woe, and read the cruel fact that there was no help, that her own grief and pleadings were only deepening the man's wretchedness. She stared at him for a long time; and when she spoke to him again it was with a sudden start, and in a strange, ghastly voice,--“And then, David, there is no God?” He trembled, but the words choked him as he tried to respond, and his head dropped; then at last she heard him moan, “Oh, how can God free my soul from this madness, how can he deliver me from such a curse?” Helen could say no more--could only cling to him and sob in her fright. So the day passed away, and another night came; and still the crushed and beaten soul was writhing in its misery, lost in blackness and despair; and still Helen read it all in his white and tortured features, and drank the full cup of his soul's fiery pain.