“It is strange that you should apply such terms to a man of whom you yourself acknowledge that you know nothing. But, at any rate,” continued Edith, with strong emphasis, “_he knows you_. It is this knowledge that gives him the power of passing through those gates which you shut against me; what that knowledge may be you yourself know best.” “He does not know me,” said Wiggins. “He must,” said Edith, “for the simple reason that you dare not keep him out.” Wiggins looked at her in silence for some time. “It is a terrible ordeal for me,” said he at last, in a slow, measured tone, “to talk with you. You seem to me like one who is mad; but it is the madness of utter ignorance. You do not know. Oh, how you tempt me to tell you all! But I can not, I can not. My lips are sealed as yet. But I will say no more on that. I will ask you one question only. It is this: Can you not see with your own eyes that this man is nothing more than a mere adventurer?” “An adventurer!” repeated Edith, indignantly. “It ill becomes one like you to use such a word as that. For what are you yourself? Lieutenant Dudleigh is a gentleman; and though I have only known him for a short time, I am happy in calling him my friend. I will tolerate no abuse of him. Why do you not say this to his face? If he is what you say, why do you allow him to come here? An adventurer? Why, that is the very name I apply in all my thoughts to you!” A look of anguish came over the face of Wiggins. He trembled violently, but with an effort mastered his feelings. Evidently what he said was true, and to him it was a severe ordeal to carry on a conversation with Edith. Her scorn, her anger, and her hate all flamed forth so vehemently that it was hard to endure. “If you could only refrain from these bitter insults!” said he, in a mournful voice. “If you could only put a check upon yourself when you talk with me! I wish to speak calmly, but you hurl taunts at me that inflict exquisite pain. The remembrance of them will one day give no less anguish to you, believe me--oh, believe me! Spare me these taunts and insults, I entreat you, for the sake of both of us!” “Both of us?” repeated Edith, without being in the slightest degree affected by the words of Wiggins. “Both of us? You seem to me to be including yourself and me in the same class, as though there could be any thing in common between me and one like you. That is impossible. Our interests are forever separate.” “You do not know,” said Wiggins, with a great effort to be calm. “This man--this Lieutenant Dudleigh, as he calls himself--is an enemy to both of us.”