“He is worse than you or any one can imagine, and yet----” “How has he got you in his power--that is what you are going to tell me.” “No, no; that is impossible. You do not know what you ask. You do not know me, or you would not ask me to tell you.” “What would you have me think, child?” “Think the worst--the worst that your kind heart can think--only leave me--leave me. God may prove less unkind than He seems to me. I may soon die. 'The only way her guilt to cover.'” “I cannot leave you, and I say again that I refuse to believe anything ill of you. Do you really think that it is possible for me to have written so much as I have written about men and women without being able to know when a woman is altogether good--a man altogether bad? I know you, my dear, and I have seen him. Why should you be afraid of him? Think of the friends you have.” “It is the thought of them that frightens me. I have friends now, but if they knew all that that man can tell, they would fly from me with loathing. Oh! when I think of it all, I abhor myself. Oh, fool, fool, fool! Was ever woman such a fool before?” “For God's sake, child, don't talk in that strain.” “It is the only strain in which I can talk. It is the cry of a wretch who stands on the brink of a precipice and knows that hands are being thrust out behind to push her over.” She tottered forward with wild eyes, under the influence of her own thought. He caught her and supported her in his arms. “That shows you, my poor girl, that if there are unkind hands behind you, there are still some hands that are ready to keep your feet from slipping. There are hands that will hold you back from that precipice, or else those who hold them out to you will go over the brink with you. Ah, my dear, dear girl, nothing can happen to make you despair. In another year--perhaps in another month--you will wonder how you could ever have taken so gloomy a view of the present hour.” A gleam of hope came into her eyes. Only for an instant it remained there, however. Then she shook her head, saying-- “Alas! Alas!” She seated herself once more, but he retained her hand in one of his own, laying his other caressingly on her head. “You are surely the sweetest girl that ever lived,” said he. “You fill with your sweetness the world through which I walk. I do not say that it would be a happiness for me to die for you, for you know that if my dying could save you from your trouble I would not shrink from it. What I do say is that I should like to live for you--to live to see happiness once again brought to you. And yet you will tell me nothing--you will not give me a chance of helping you.” She shook her head sadly. “I dare not--I dare not,” she said. “I dare not run the chance of forfeiting your regard forever.” “Good-bye,” he said after a pause. He felt her fingers press his own for a moment; then he dropped her hand and walked toward the door. Suddenly, however, he returned to her.