"And then--Vesty? Well, will you not speak to me? Is it to be life and honor, with your love at last, or despair and death? You were promised to me once. In spite of all, you cannot hold yourself your own; you are mine; the wife God meant for me. O Vesty! let us blot out the confused past with all its mistakes! It is killing me--will kill me body and soul if you leave me now. Let me find my lost home at last: let me rest a little while before I die!" His weak and gasping breath warned her; she stilled his hands, the low lids hiding the anguish in her eyes. So there was a way out of it all, easy, luxurious, convenient for the passions! And there was a straight Basin way, a high promise before God and man, that, to the Basin sense, there was no taking back: Vesty could not see upon any other road; she shuddered. But Notely's wasted, broken life clinging to her! "That was never done among the Basins, Notely. When we are married we promise, and we hold to it till death. It would never seem to me that I was your wife, but wicked and false to you and her--always that. I would rather die!" "My Vesty, the Basin is a little, little part of the world, and ignorant of life. I tell you what is right. You used to have faith in me--so much that, if you would, you might still believe in me and my ceaseless love for you. Do you think that I will ever leave you here? My mother wants you and the child: we will be happy together at last, with such quiet or such pleasures as you will. My quarries are turning out wealth for me--it is for you and Gurdon's child. Think of Gurdon's little boy!" As he spoke, Vesty seemed to see again a pale face with a great light upon it, turning without question to its stern duty. "Notely, Gurdon gave me up, and the baby that he worshipped; though I clung to him, he put us by, because, though it was hard, it was right--it was the only way. I think it is often so between those two, the right and what we want. I think that love, somehow, in this world seems to be putting by--putting by what we want." Vesty struggled again in her dim way. "Why need it be?" cried Notely sharply. He raised himself on the pillows as if stung; a deep crimson rushed to his cheeks. "It is," said Vesty sadly, quietly--"it is. What we want--putting by. Do you think I did not care for you?" His haggard face turned to her. "Will not always care for you? But you will never be a great man till you can put by what you want, when they stand against each other, for what is right, though it be hard. Then one would not only admire and love you; they would trust you to death's door, though all the way was hard." Notely had no answer for the tongue-loosed Basin. Besides, her words had comforted him, her tears fell on him.