perhaps I ought to say Mr. Maxwell now--that henceforth--I mean that we
are not going to be married after all."

"What I mean is this, Enid," he replied, "that dearly as I love you, and
just because I love you so dearly, because I would give all the world if
I had it to have you for my wife, I would _not_ make you the wife of a
man who could become the thing that was lying on the hearthrug of the
Den four nights ago--a man drunk against his own will, a slave to one of
the vilest of habits--no, something much worse than a habit, a disease
inherited with tainted, poisoned blood!

"What would you think of your parents and my father if they allowed you
to marry a lunatic? Well, with that taint in my blood I am worse, a
thousand times worse, than a lunatic, and I should be a criminal as well
if I asked you or any other girl for whom I had the slightest feeling of
love or respect to marry me.

"Think what the punishment of such a crime might be!" he went on even
more vehemently. "Every hour of our married life I should be haunted by
this horrible fear. Tempted by a devil lurking in every glass of wine or
spirits that I drank, or even looked at--the same devil which had me in
its grip the other night. Enid, if you could have seen me then, I think
you would have understood better; but if, which God forbid, you could
have gone through what I went through after I swallowed that first drink
of whiskey, you would as soon think of marrying a criminal out of jail
or a madman out of a lunatic asylum as you would of marrying me. I
daresay all this may seem unreasonable, perhaps even heartless, to you;
but, dear, if you only knew what it costs to say it----"

He broke off abruptly, for as he said this a note of tenderness stole
for the first time into his voice, and found an instant echo in Enid's
heart. So far she had borne herself bravely through a bitterly trying
ordeal, but as she noticed a change in his tone a swift conviction came
to her that if she remained many more minutes in his company she would
certainly break down and there would be "a scene," which, under the
circumstances, was not to be thought of. So she stopped him by holding
out her hand and saying in a voice which cost her a terrible effort to
keep steady:

"No, Vane, we have talked quite enough. I see your mind is made up, and
so there is, of course, nothing more to be said except 'good-bye.' I
think we had better not meet again until we both have had more time