"And you think that this is fair to me? that a woman gives the heart for pleasant weather only? I do not know what your sorrow may be, but it is my right to share it. I am only a woman; but a woman can be strong for those she loves. Remember that I have always had to care for others-- always; and I can bear much. I will not ask what your trouble is, I only ask you"--here she spoke slowly and earnestly, and rested her hand on his shoulder--"to say to me that you love no other woman; and that--that no other woman has a claim upon you. Then I shall be content to pity you, to help you, to love you. God gives women many pains, but none so great as the love that will not trust utterly; for trust is our bread of life. Yes, indeed, indeed!" "I dare not say," he said, "that it is your misfortune to love me, for in this you show how noble a woman can be. But I will say that the cup is bitter-sweet for you. . . . I cannot tell you now what my trouble is; but I can say that no other living woman has a claim upon me. . . . My reckoning is with the dead." "That is with God," she whispered, "and He is just and merciful too. . . . Can it not be repaired here?" She smoothed back his hair, then let her fingers stray lightly on his cheek. It hurt him like death to reply. "No, but there can be punishment here." She shuddered slightly. "Punishment, punishment," she repeated fearfully--"what punishment?" "I do not quite know." Lines of pain grew deeper in his face. . . . "Ruth, how much can a woman forgive?" "A mother, everything." But she would say no more. He looked at her long and earnestly, and said at last: "Will you believe in me no matter what happens?" "Always, always." Her smile was most winning. "If things should appear dark against me?" "Yes, if you give me your word." "If I said to you that I did a wrong; that I broke the law of God, though not the laws of man?" There was a pause in which she drew back, trembling slightly, and looked at him timidly and then steadily, but immediately put her hands bravely in his, and said: "Yes." "I did not break the laws of man." "It was when you were in the navy?" she inquired, in an awe-stricken tone. "Yes, years ago." "I know. I feel it. You must not tell me. It was a woman, and this other woman, this Mrs. Falchion knows, and she would try to ruin you, or"--here she seemed to be moved suddenly by a new thought--"or have you love her. But she shall not, she shall not--neither! For I will love you, and God will listen to me, and answer me." "Would to Heaven I were worthy of you! I dare not think of where you might be called to follow me, Ruth." "'Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God,'" she rejoined in a low voice.