"Still I walked on, leaving the live-oak and magnolia-tree behind. His last speech seemed hollow and conventional. Did he think to appease me by commonplace flattery like that? "He walked by my side in silence some minutes, looking earnestly in my face when it turned to the moonlight. All at once he broke out earnestly, passionately, throwing off all the constraint that had made him seem so artificial. "'Let us be frank with each other,' he said. 'You are my friend's wife. I go from his house to-morrow, because I am afraid of loving you more than an honorable man should. Is this honest? Are you angry with me?' "My face was lifted to his; my hands unconsciously clasped themselves. I trembled in every limb; but it was neither with anger nor pain. "'Am I not right?' he demanded, turning his face away. "I did not answer, for I knew well that, right or wrong, his going would leave me miserable. "'I thought myself stronger and wiser,' he continued, without seeming to heed my silence; 'but that day when you were in such peril I learned how deep was the impression your beauty and loveliness had made upon me. Since then I have been resolved to go--my honor and my happiness demand it.' "Still I was silent, partly from a wild sense of triumph, partly from terror lest he should guess at the feeling. "'You will not answer me; my frankness offends you.' "He seemed touched and hurt by the silence, which I could not force myself to break. All at once I was sobbing. He took my hand gently in his, and led me back along the path we had been walking. I cannot repeat all that he said to me. It was himself on whom all blame rested. This was the spirit of his conversation. Not for one moment did he hint that I could have been interested in anything he did, save as the hospitable lady of a mansion in which he was a guest. Was he deceived? I cannot tell; but this I do know, every word he uttered was full of loyal respect for my husband. He did not seem to understand or notice the tears I was shedding, but quietly led me toward the house. At last he stopped, took my hand, pressed it to his lips, and left me standing alone within sight of my dwelling. "Lawrence left the next morning at daylight. I had been dreaming on my sleepless pillow that scene by the lake over and over again. Every word that man had uttered passed through my brain, and made a sweet lodgment in my heart. How careful he had been to save my pride while confessing his own weakness. If he had been masterful, and treated me like a child, no word of his had conveyed a suspicion that I too was in danger. His delicacy enthralled me more by far than persuasion could have done. He spoke only of his own struggles and his own danger, never hinting that I might share in one or the other. How magnanimous, how self-sacrificing he was--and this man loved me!