"One called Jasper Adelstone, a lawyer; a man it would be gross flattery to call even a gentleman! Think of it, Lil. Picture it! I wait to receive my bride, and instead of it happening so, I am sent for to meet her at this man's chambers. There I am informed that all is over between us, and that she is the affianced wife of Mr. Jasper Adelstone." "But the reason--the reason?" "There is none!" he exclaimed, rising and pacing the room, "I am vouchsafed no reason. The bare facts are deemed sufficient for me. I am cast adrift, as something no longer necessary or needful, without word of reason or even of rhyme!" and he laughed. She was silent for a moment, then a murmur broke from her lips. "Poor girl!" He stooped and looked down at her. "Do not waste your pity, Lil," he said, with a grim smile. "With her own lips she declared that what she did she did of her own free will!" "With this man standing by her side?" He started, then he shook his head. "I know what you mean!" he said, hoarsely. "And do you not see that that is the worst of it. She is in his power; there is some secret understanding between them. Can I marry a woman who is in another man's power so completely that she is forced to break her word to me, to jilt me for him!--can I?" His voice was so hoarse and harsh as to be almost inarticulate, and he stood with outstretched, appealing hands, as if demanding an answer. What could she say? For a moment she was silent, then she put out her hand to him. "And you have left her with him, Ley?" The question sent all the blood from his face. "Yes," he said, wearily, "I have left her with her future husband. Possibly, probably, by this time she has become his wife. One man can procure a marriage license as easily as another." "You did that! What would papa and my mother have said?" she murmured. He laughed. "What did, what should I care? I tell you I loved her madly; you do not know, cannot understand what such love means! Know, then, Lil, that I would rather have died than lose her--that, having lost her, life has become void and barren for me--that the days and hours until I forget her will be so much time of torture and regret, and vain, useless longing. I shall see her face, hear her voice, wherever I may be, in the day or in the night; and no pleasure, no pain will efface her from my memory or my heart." "Oh, Ley!--my poor Ley!" "Thus it is with me. And now I have come to say 'good-bye.'" "Good-bye. You are going--where?"