"'You ask me much,' he continued. 'You ask me to give up what is now the dearest object of my life--except one. But, ah! I am an Eastern. I am selfish; I cannot sacrifice disinterestedly. There is only one thing for which I can give up my scheme of vengeance.' "'Tell me what it is,' she cried. "'Ah, sweet lady, I dare not tell; and yet I must. It is you. Be my wife, Miss Forrest; let me call you by your name, and I will wipe the blood from this knife, I will destroy every evidence of the dark deed. Justin Blake shall not lie in a prison cell; his name shall not be a synonym for devilry; he shall not be mentioned with loathing.'" "And what then?" I cried. "What was her answer?" "Man, she looked at him with loathing, but he did not see it. "'Be your wife?' she said. "'My wife, Miss Forrest,' he replied. 'Love cannot be greater than mine. I love the very ground on which you walk. Be my wife and I will be your slave. Your every desire shall be granted, and I will give up that which is dear to me.' "'And if I will not?' she said. "'Ah, if you will not! Then--ah, I am an Eastern, and cannot give up everything. If I cannot have love, I must have vengeance.' "'But you have made a mistake. Your friend is alive. It is absurd to think that Mr. Blake is guilty of such a deed.' "He pointed with a trembling hand to the bloody knife. "'I can have no stronger proof than that,' he said, 'and that blood cries out for vengeance now.' "'Oh, I cannot,' she said, 'I cannot.' "'You refuse me?' he said quietly. "'I must, I must,' she cried. 'It cannot be!' "He went to the writing-desk that stood near by, and commenced writing. 'If a poor Eastern cannot have love, he can still have vengeance,' he said. "'What are you writing?' she cried. "'I am writing a letter to the superintendent of the nearest police station, telling him to come with some men to Temple Hall to arrest a murderer.' "'Have you no mercy?' she said. "'Mercy, lady. Only the Great Spirit above knows what I had made up my mind to give up, when I told you the condition on which I would be silent. I loved my friend as Jonathan loved David, and he is dead--murdered by an enemy's hand. Vengeance is one of the sweetest thoughts to an Eastern, and I meant to be avenged. You begged for his life, and I offered it--for your love. I asked you to marry me--me, who would give up everything for you; but you refused. I grieve for you, lady; but since I cannot have love, I must have revenge.' "He went on writing, while Miss Forrest clasped her hands as if in prayer. "I am relating this very badly, Justin. I cannot remember many of the things that were said; I cannot call to mind all the gestures, the tones of voice, or the awful anguish which seemed to possess them both. I can only give you a scrappy account of what passed."