"Thank you! If you had been brave enough to insist on my keeping it, I might have done so. You are a very indifferent lover. Twice over Duke Rotherham drove you away, just because he was a duke." "You are mistaken. I set you free because you are utterly deceitful. I hate deceit. I love you no longer." "You are deceiving yourself. You can never cease to love me." "I love you not. I have ceased already." "Indeed, sir, in the matter of love you leave off loving when you can, not when you wish." "A burnt-out fire cannot be rekindled; you are dead to me." "I shall live in your memory." "I have buried you below memory, and, for the graves of the heart, there is no resurrection." "Do not quarrel with me, Ian. I did love you! I did intend to marry you!" "You are a beautiful woman, but you are only a face without a heart. It would have been a good thing for you to have become my wife. I should have taught you how to love." With a little mocking laugh she answered: "It might have been a good thing to be your wife, but oh, what happiness it is not to be your wife! You have much learning, sir, but you do not know the way to a woman's heart." Then she slipped from her finger the ring he had given her and let it fall to her feet. "I take back my promise, Ian. Take back your ring. Farewell!" and, with head proudly lifted, she passed him. At the door she turned, and he was just lifting the ring. "Ah!" she cried, "the diamonds are pure enough for you to touch, I see," and with a contemptuous laugh she closed the door behind her. Her eyes were tearless, and there was a dubious smile around her mouth, but her heart grew so still she thought something must have died there. "Farewell, Ian!" she whispered, as she sank wearily on her bed. "Farewell! You wanted too much. You made the great blunder of confounding love-making with love. You took every trifle too seriously. I thought I loved you, but what is love? I might have married you, if I had not wanted to be a duchess. You might have spoiled that dream, and I am glad you are gone. _Hi! Ho!_ I think I have managed very well." Really it was her gift of blindness to anyone's pleasure but her own that at this time had kept her ignorant of danger until she had drifted past it. If Ian had been more persistent, the end of the affair would have been very different. CHAPTER IX WHEN WILL THE NIGHT BE PAST? "Alas! God Christ--along the weary lands, What lone invisible Calvaries are set, What drooping brows with dews of anguish wet, What faint outspreading of unwilling hands, Bound to a viewless cross with viewless bands. While at the darkest hour what ghosts are met Of ancient pain and bitter fond regret, Till the new-risen spirit understands."