"I know not how it may be in the future of this world, Giles; but when the day comes that the secrets of all hearts are laid open, I feel sure as that I stand here that Christopher Neville will have naught to fear. For myself my shame will be that I loved not too much, but too little. To love cautiously is not to love at all. For thee, thy punishment--the hardest, I believe, for a just man--shall be to see too late the wrong thou hast done; the friendship lightest held where it should have been strongest, the faith withheld where the hand should have been outstretched in aid, the life sacrificed that should have been a bulwark to the state,--all this will be laid at thy door--" Then,--with a sudden break,--"God forgive me! What a hypocrite I am! My sin is heavier than thine. I knew him, I loved him, and I failed him. Death holds no bitterness like this." Without another word she turned and left him. Brent fell back, awed by the force of her passion, and stood still watching her as she swept on, a tall vision of Nemesis, vague and gray in the mist that clung about the long folds of her cloak. On she walked, slowly at first, then faster and faster till she was almost running. At the third bend of the path a man slipped out from behind the twisted pine, and fell in with her step so naturally that she was scarcely conscious of his companionship. There was a softness in Ralph Ingle's silence, a soothing quality in his sympathy that made itself felt. Elinor's gait slowed, and she removed the hands that had been pressed to her temples, as if to quiet the intolerable throbbing pain. "Pity me!"--Ralph Ingle spoke low. "I pity thee! Have I room in my heart for pity of any save myself?" "Thou shouldst have for one more miserable than thou." "That cannot be; and why shouldst thou need pity?" "Because thou art sorrowful, and I can give thee no help. Is not that reason enough?" Elinor stopped and looked at him with wide, half-seeing eyes, striving to force herself to put aside her own trouble enough to realize that of another. "Do not!" she cried, stretching out defensive hands, "do not tell me that I have made someone else wretched too! My life seems destined to be a calamity to all who fall within its fateful shadow." "No; speak no such sad words," cried Ingle, falling on his knees before her. "To me your presence has been pure sunshine; but were life all shadow, I would rather live under the clouds with thee than in the light of heaven itself without thee." "Forgive me!" answered Elinor, wearily, brushing her hand across her eyes. "It is idle to talk thus. I loved--I love--Christopher Neville, and I cannot listen to any other." "My words were untimely; I spoke too soon." "Nay, for me there is no time any more,--only a waiting for eternity." "Think a moment, Elinor! I must call thee so once if nevermore. Wilt thou in good earnest condemn me to despair?"