"A woman knows in an instant by her natural intuition when she is loved," she continued, speaking slowly and with emphasis. "Well, if you choose to throw all your happiness to the winds, then you are, of course, at liberty to do so. Yet, if you think that I can ever reciprocate your love you have formed an entirely wrong estimate of my character. One whose mission it is to work evil cannot love. I can hate--and hate well--but affection knows no place in my heart." "That's a terrible self-denunciation," I said. "Have you never loved, then?" "Love comes always once to a woman, as it does to a man," she replied. "Yes, I loved once." "And it was an unfortunate attachment?" She nodded. "As unfortunate as yours is," she said, hoarsely. "But cannot I take your lover's place?" I bent and whispered passionately. "Will you not let me love you? I will do so with all my heart, with all my soul." She raised her fine eyes to mine, and after a moment's pause, added-- "I am entirely in your hands. You say you love me now--you love me because you consider my beauty greater than that of other women; because I have fascinated you." And sighing she slowly sank into her chair again. Then she added, "You wish me to be yours, but that I can never be. I can be your friend, but recollect I can never love you--never!" Then, putting forth her white hand she took mine, and looking into my face with a sweet, imploring expression, she went on-- "Think well of what I have said. Reflect upon my words. Surely it is best to end our friendship when you know how impossible it is for me to love you in return." "Then you will not allow me to take the place in your heart that your lost lover once occupied?" I said, with deep disappointment. "It is impossible!" she answered, shaking her head gravely. "The love which comes to each of us once in a lifetime is like no other. If doomed to misfortune, it can never be replaced. None can fill the breach in a wounded heart." "That is only too true," I was compelled to admit. "Yet I cannot relinquish you, Aline, because I love you." "You are infatuated--like other men have been," she said, with a faint, pitying smile. "Holding you in esteem as I do, I regret it." "Why?" "This is but the second time we have met, and you know nothing of my character," she pointed out. "Your love is, therefore, mere admiration." I shook my head. Her argument was unconvincing. "Well," she went on, "_I_ only desire that you should release me from this bond of friendship formed by your kindness to me the other night. It would be better for you, better for me, if we parted this evening never to again meet." "That's impossible. I must see you from time to time, even though you may endeavour to put me from you. I do not fear this mysterious evil which you prophesy, because loving you as firmly as I do, no harm can befall me."