s fixed
on Stephen. At last she spoke, in a voice of unutterable yearning and
tenderness, "I do love you, Stephen."

At these words, he pressed his hands tighter upon his eyes for one second,
then shook them hastily free, and looking up at Mercy said gently,--

"Yes, dear, I know you do; and I know you would have loved me always, if
you could. Do not be unhappy. I told you a long time ago that to have had
you once love me was enough for a lifetime." And Stephen smiled,--a smile
more pathetic than Mercy's had been. He went on, still in the same gentle
voice,--a voice out of which the very life seemed to have died,--"I hoped,
when we met, all would be right. It used to be so much to you, Mercy, to
look into my eyes, I thought you would trust me when you saw me."

No reproach, no antagonism, no entreaty. With the long-trained patience of
a lifetime, Stephen accepted this great grief, and made no effort to
gainsay it. Mercy tried again and again to speak, but no words came. At
last, with a flood of tears, she exclaimed,--

"I cannot help it, Stephen,--I cannot help it."

"No, darling, you cannot help it; and it is not your fault," replied
Stephen. Touched to the heart by his sweetness and forbearance, Mercy went
nearer him, and took his hand, and in her old way was about to lay it to
her cheek.

Stephen drew it hastily away, and a shudder ran over his body. "No, Mercy,
do not try to do that. That is not right, when you do not trust me. You
cannot help loving the touch of my hand, Mercy,"--and a certain sad pride
lighted Stephen's face at the thought of the clinging affection which even
now stirred this woman's veins for him,--"any more than you can help
having ceased to trust me. If the trust ever comes back, then"--Stephen
turned his head away, and did not finish the sentence. A great silence
fell upon them both. How inexplicable it seemed to them that there was
nothing to say! At last Stephen rose, and said gravely,--

"Good-by, Mercy. Unless there is something I can do to help you, I would
rather not see you again."

"No," whispered Mercy. "That is best."

"And if the time ever comes, darling, when you need me, ... or trust me ...
again, will you write to me and say so?"

"Yes," sobbed Mercy, and Stephen left her. On the threshold of the door,
he turned and fixed his eyes upon her with one long look of sorrow,
compassion, and infinite love. Her heart thrilled under it. She made an
eager step forward. If he had