an adviser!
As you were speaking it struck me that it was my part.--But no, no! He
has placed himself beyond the pale of the compassion which I might have
felt even for an enemy after such a frightful blow. He! He can and shall
never be anything to me till the end of time. I have to thank you for
having found me this haven of rest. Help me now to keep out everything
that can intrude itself here to disturb my peace. If Orion should ever
dare, for whatever purpose, to force or steal a way into this house, I
trust to you, my friend and deliverer!"

She held out her hand to Philippus, and as he took it the blood seethed
in his veins with tender emotion.

"My strength, like my heart, is wholly yours!" he exclaimed ardently.
"Command them, and if the devoted love of a faithful, plain-spoken man--"

"Say no more, no, no!" Paula broke in with anxious vehemence. "Let us
remain closely bound together by friendship-as brother and sister."

"As brother and sister?" he dully echoed with a melancholy smile. "Aye,
friendship too is a beautiful, beautiful thing. But yet--let me speak--I
have dreamed of love, the tossing sea of passion; I have felt its surges
here--in here; I feel them still. . . . But man, man," and he struck his
forehead with his fist, "have you forgotten, like a fool, what your image
is in the mirror; have you forgotten that you are an ugly, clumsy fellow,
and that the gorgeous flower you long for. . . ."

Paula had shrunk back, startled by her friend's vehemence; but she now
went up to him, and taking his hand with frank spirit, she said
impressively:

"It is not so, Philippus, my dear, kind, only friend. The gorgeous flower
you desire I can no longer give you--or any one. It is mine no longer;
for when it had opened, once for all, cruel feet trod it down. Do not
abuse your mirrored image; do not call yourself a clumsy fellow. The best
and fairest might be proud of your love, just as you are. Am I not proud,
shall I not always be proud of your friendship?"

"Friendship, friendship!" he retorted, snatching away his hand. "This
burning, longing heart thirsts for other feelings! Oh, woman! I know the
wretch who has trodden down the flower of flowers in your heart, and I,
madman that I am, can sing his praises, can take his part; and cost what
it may, I will still do so as long as you. . . . But perhaps the glorious
flower may strike new roots in the soil of hatred and I, the hapless
wretch who water it, may see