“But I?” He threw out his arms passionately. “Ella, do you know what the madness of love is? Don't you fear that in the first rapturous days of life with you I might forget the work for your enchantment? Would it not be better to begin the work in the sweet fulness of our wedded life,--when we have learned each other in the way that only wedded life can teach?” “It will be better to begin things together,” she replied with feminine reiteration. He pleaded flamboyantly. Why not fix the date of his great happiness for Christmas,--the time of universal rejoicing? The marriage would stimulate imaginations. The deficit would be made up fourfold. Subscriptions would come in by way of wedding gifts. Ella remained calmly obdurate. “Before I loved you, the cause was everything to me. Since then, you are everything. The cause is second. It is the irrefragable law of life and love.” “To me,” replied Ella, “the cause and you are one.” She glanced up swiftly and caught, as it seemed, a look of irritation on his face,--a contraction of the brows, a snarl of the lips between the auburn moustache and beard, showing the teeth. But it passed like a lightning flash and left his face aglow with such exuberant adoration that she attributed it to some-trick of shadow, and dismissed it from her mind. But as the days went on, a vague uneasiness took root and began to grow. Roderick spoke less of the Colony, more of herself. Negotiations appeared to be at a standstill. No more names swelled the subscription list; Roderick took no further steps to make fresh converts among the young and ardent. He pleaded the necessity of work to supply ordinary personal needs. He tried to awaken her enthusiasm over a flaring picture of _Love the Destroyer_, which he had begun to paint. She went one day to his studio to see it. Love stood, triumphant and cruel, a two-handed sword in his hand. Around him was the carnage for which he was responsible. An emaciated creature at last gasp was kissing his feet. There was a suggestion of the flesh in it that jarred upon the girl. The commonplace of the conception chilled her. She remained staring at the picture. It was long before she could trust herself to look at Roderick. At last she did so, unable to hide her disappointment. “You do not like it?” said Roderick, eagerly. “Forgive me--” she began rather piteously. “Say no more,” he cried, and with a magnificent gesture he seized a cloth, and in great, swift sweeps of his arm smeared the picture into a horrid chaos of greens and yellows. Ella sprang forward with a little cry. “So perish all in me that you deem unworthy!” he exclaimed fervently.