"No, no, do not ask me!" He turned from her as though he had finally made up his mind. "Of all men, I should be the last to hurt you. And there is no certainty, perhaps not even a probability, that you should ever know it if I do not tell you." "Ah, but there is!" she cried, insisting. "You have said so. You told me that a moment ago. No--you must tell me. I will not let you go until you do. I will not leave anything unsaid that I can say--that a woman can say--" "No, no!" "Harry, I must know. I will know." She laid her hand upon his arm. "For heaven's sake!" exclaimed Brett in the utmost distress. "Harry! You loved me once--" Her voice vibrated audibly. "Once!" Brett started violently, and turned if possible, paler. "You made me think so." "Marion, Marion, don't!" "I will. Do you remember, Harry, long, long ago when we were almost boy and girl, how you promised, faithfully, sacredly, that if ever I needed you, that if ever I asked your help--" "And you married John Darche instead of me," said Brett, interrupting her. "Yes, and I married John Darche," answered Marion, gravely. "Because you loved him and not me." "Because I thought,--no, I will not go back to that. There is a nearer time than that in the past, a day we both remember, a day that I am ashamed of, and yet--well you have not forgotten it either. That morning--not so many months ago. It was on that day--that day when my husband was arrested. It was in this very room. You told me that you loved me, and I--you know what I did. It was bad. It was wrong. Call it what you please, but it was the truth. I let you know that I loved you as well as you loved me and better, for I had more to lose. John was alive then. He is dead now--long dead. If I was ashamed then, I am not ashamed now--for I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am showing whether I trust you or not, whether I believe in you, whether I am willing to stake my woman's pride on your man's faithfulness. I loved you then, and I showed you that I did. Harry! I love you now--and I tell you so without a blush." Brett trembled as though in bodily fear, glanced at her and turned away. "Great God!" he exclaimed under his breath. "And you--Harry--you still--Harry--look at me! What is it?" With wide and loving eyes she looked at him, expecting every instant that he would turn to her. But he did not move. Then suddenly, with a low cry, as though she were mortally hurt, she fell back upon the sofa. "Oh, my God! you do not love me!" Her voice was broken and weak, but he heard the words. He turned at last, looked at her, and then knelt down at her side. "Marion, Marion! dear!" he whispered lovingly, again and again. But she pushed him away. Then he rose to his feet and sat beside her, looking down into her face. "Yes," he said gravely, "you must know my secret now." "Yes, I know your secret now, your miserable secret." She turned her face from him against the cushion.