ng God that she had
had the strength to send him away; that she had had strength sufficient
to stand where she had stood in the room, silent, while he had put
his arms on her bare shoulders and kissed her on the mouth, saying
"Good-by."

She felt that she had every reason to thank God for that strength, for
she knew that it had been given to her at that moment; it had not sprung
from within her own heart; her heart had been crying out to him, "Stay,
stay, stay!" her heart took no account of honor or purity or a husband.

Yes, she felt that the strength which had come to her at that moment had
been the especial gift of God, and she was thankful to God for it.

That consciousness of gratitude to God was her last sensation before
falling asleep; and, when morning came, her first sensation was that of
having a letter to write. Before she had breakfasted she had written her
letter and sent it to be posted.

This was the letter:

"MY ONE LOVE: I was a fool--oh, such a fool! How could I have done it?
How could I have sent you away in such coldness last night? Believe me,
it was not I who did it. How could I have done it? You know that my love
for you is limitless. You know that it is my life. I tell you that my
love for you laughs at such limits as are laid down by religion and
honor. Why should I protest? My love is love, and there can be no love
where there are any limits.

"Come to me on Thursday. I shall be at home after dinner, at nine, and
see if I am not now in my right mind. Come to me; come to me, Bertie, my
love."

CHAPTER XVII.

WHAT AM I THAT I SHOULD DO THIS THING?

"At last!"

He sat with the letter before him after he had breakfasted, and perhaps
for a time, say a minute or so, he caught a glimpse of the nature of
the woman who had written those lines to him. If he had not had some
appreciation of her nature he would have spent an hour or two--perhaps a
day or two--trying to reconcile her attitude of the previous night with
the tone of her letter. He did not, however, waste his time over such
an endeavor. He knew that she loved him, and that she did not love her
husband. He knew that she had allowed him to kiss her, and it had been
a puzzle to him for some months why she had not come to his arms
forever--he meant her to be his own property forever. He had been amazed
to hear her allude, as she had done on the previous night, to such
abstractions as honor, religion, her husband. He could not see