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"If you love me, as you say," she whispered, "do so that I may be

at peace."

His face grew radiant.

"Don't you know that you're all my life to me? But I know no

peace, and I can't give it to you; all myself-and love ... yes. I

can't think of you and myself apart. You and I are one to me. And

I see no chance before us of peace for me or for you. I see a

chance of despair, of wretchedness ... or I see a chance of

bliss, what bliss!... Can it be there's no chance of it?" he

murmured with his lips; but she heard.

She strained every effort of her mind to say what ought to be

said. But instead of that she let her eyes rest on him, full of

love, and made no answer.

"It's come!" he thought in ecstasy. "When I was beginning to

despair, and it seemed there would be no end-it's come! She loves

me! She owns it!"

"Then do this for me: never say such things to me, and let us be

friends," she said in words; but her eyes spoke quite

differently.