“Mr. Abbott,” said she, with feverish volubility, “do not try to tell him yet; wait for a few minutes till I have gained a little self-possession, a little command over myself; but no--that may be to risk his life--do not wait a moment--go now, go now, only----” She started, stumbled and fell back into a low seat under a spreading palm. “He is coming here. Do not leave me, Mr. Abbott; step back there behind those plants. I cannot trust myself to face him all alone.” I did as she bade me. Mr. S----, with a smile on his face--the first I had seen there--came in and walked with a quick step and a resolved air up to Miss Calhoun, who endeavored to rise to meet him. But she was unable, which involuntary sign of confusion seemed to please him. “Irene,” said he, in a tone that made me start and wish I had not been so amenable to her wishes, “I thought I saw you glide in here, and my guests being now all arrived, I have ventured to steal away for a moment, just to satisfy the craving which has been torturing me for the last hour. Irene, you are pale; you tremble like an aspen. Have I frightened you by my words--too abrupt, perhaps, considering the reserve that has always been between us until now. Didn’t you know that I loved you? that for the last month--ever since I have known you, indeed--I have had but the one wish, to make you my wife?” “Good God!” I saw the words on her lips rather than heard them. She seemed to be illumined and overwhelmed at once. “Mr. S------,” said she, trying to be brave, trying to address him with some sort of self-possession, “I did not expect--I had no right to expect this honor from you. I am not worthy--I have no right to hear such words from your lips. Besides----” She could go no further; perhaps he did not let her. “Not worthy--you!” There was infinite sadness in his tone. “What do you think I am, then? It is because you are so worthy, so much better than I am or can ever be, that I want you for my wife. I long for the companionship of a pure mind, a pure hand----” “Mr. S------” (she had risen, and the resolve in her face made her beauty shine out transcendently), “I have not the pure mind, the pure hand you ascribe to me. I have meddled with matters few women could even conceive of. I am a member--a repentant member, to be sure--of an organization which slights the decrees of God and places the aims of a few selfish souls above the rights of man, and----” He had stooped and was kissing her hand. “You need not go on,” he whispered; “I quite understand. But you will be my wife?” Aghast, white as the driven snow, she watched him with dilating eyes that slowly filled with a great horror. “Understand!--_you understand!_ Oh, what does that mean? _Why_ should you understand?” “Because”--his voice sunk to a whisper, but I heard it, as I would have recognized his thought had he not spoken at that moment--“because I am the chief of the organization you mention. Irene, now you have _my_ secret.”