hoarsely, "I think I can guess. I haven't forgotten the time of the corroboree. If it's anything that happened last night, anything to do with Blake, and that you think you ought to make a clean breast of, don't let it weigh upon you as far as I am concerned. I trust you wholly, dear; and I forgive you wholly if there's anything to forgive. I don't want to know. Keep it till—till after we are married—if you still wish to marry me."
"Frank, that is just it. There's no one so noble as you. You deserve to have a good wife; you deserve to be loved with a woman's whole heart, and I can't love you like that. I never have. It was wicked of me to let you engage yourself to me. It was wicked of me to accept your love."
"We settled all that, Elsie, remember. It was my doing. I took the risk. I am content with what you give me. I am content to wait till you have got over this infatuation, for that's what it is. It's not your fault."
"No, it is not infatuation. It is much more, Frank. When I said I would marry you, I didn't quite know myself. I did know that night after the corroboree. I ought to have stopped it all then. I can't marry you, Frank. I should be the vilest woman on earth if I married you now."
"Why, Elsie?"
"Because I love another man, so that I would die for him; yes, I would die for him, if need were. I love him so that I would follow him to the world's end, if he wanted me."
"Does he want you, Elsie?" Frank's voice was very grim.
"No, I cannot tell. I know nothing, except that he loves me."
"And you are sure of that now?"
"As sure as that I live."
"Then," he said quietly, releasing her hand, "there is nothing more to be said. I don't blame you, Elsie; I took the risk, and I abide by it."
He turned his head away, and then he got up abruptly. She felt that it was to hide the sob that for a moment convulsed his frame. She got up too, and stood helpless, ago-
