what
they had to do with the matter in hand. He could not see why such
considerations should be potent to exercise a restraining influence on
the intentions of a man and a woman who love each other.

Well, now it would appear that she had cast to the winds all such
considerations as she had enumerated, and was prepared to live under the
rule of love alone, and it was at his suggestion she was doing so.

For a moment or two he saw her as she was: a woman in the midst of a
seething ocean, throwing up her hands and finding an absolute relief in
going down--down--down into very hell. For a moment or two his heart was
full of pity for her. Who could be a spectator of a woman's struggles
for life in the midst of that turbulent sea of passion which was
overwhelming her, and refrain from feeling pity? That letter which lay
before him represented the agonizing cry of a drowning creature; one
whom the long struggle has made delirious; one who looks forward to
going down with the delight born of delirium.

He recollected a picture which he had once seen--the picture of a
drowning woman. He saw it now before him with hideous vividness, and the
face of the woman was the face of Ella Linton. The agony of that
last fight with an element that was overpowering, overwhelming in its
ruthless strength, was shown upon every feature, and his soul was filled
with pity.

He sprang to his feet and crushed the letter into his pocket. He felt
none of the exultation of the huntsman--only sadness at the fate of the
hunted thing that lay at his feet. Once before the same feeling had come
over him. It was when, after the long struggle up the river, through the
forests, swamps, jungle grass that cut the body of a man as though it
were sharp wire, he fired his shot and the meteor-bird fell at his
feet. After the first few panting breaths that came to him he had stood
leaning on his gun, looking down at that beautiful thing which he had
deprived of life.

"What am I that I should have done this thing?" he had asked himself on
that evening, while the blacks had yelled around him like devils.

"What am I that I should do this thing?" was his cry now, as the voice
of many demons sounded in his ears.

What was he that he should rejoice at receiving that letter from the
woman over whose head the waters were closing?

He ordered his horse and, mounting it, rode to where he could put it
to the gallop. So men try to leave behind them the sneering demon