be busy now."

"And then why--why should we prolong a painful interview, Glory?"

She shot up a look under her eyebrows. His eyes had a harassed
expression, but there was a gleam in them that set her heart beating.

"Is it so painful? Is it?"

"Glory, I meant to tell you I could not come again."

"No! You're not so busy as all that, are you? Surely" (the Manx again,
only she seemed to be breathless now)--"surely you're not so ter'ble busy
but you can just put a sight on a girl now and again for all?"

He made a gesture with his hand. "It disturbs, it distracts----"

"Oh, is that all? Then," with a forced laugh, "I'll come to see you
instead. Yes, I will, though."

"No, you mustn't do that, Glory. It would only torment----"

"Torment! Gough bless me! Why torment?" and a fugitive flame shot up at
him.

"Because"--he stammered, and she could see that his lips quivered; then
calmly, very calmly, pronouncing the words slowly, and in a voice as cold
as ice--"because I love you!"

"You!"

"Didn't you know that?" His voice was guttural. "Haven't you known it all
along? What's the use of pretending? You've dragged it out of me. Was
that only to show your power over me?"

"Oh!"

She had heard what her heart wanted to hear, and not for worlds would she
have missed hearing it, yet she was afraid, and trembling all over.

"We two are of different natures, Glory, that's the trouble between
us--now, and always has been. We have nothing in common, absolutely
nothing. You have chosen your path in life, and it is not my path. I have
chosen mine, and it is not yours. Your friends are not my friends. We are
two different beings altogether, and yet--and yet I love you! And that's
why I can not come again."

It was sweet, but it was terrible. So different from what she had dreamed
of: "I love you!--you are my soul!--I can not live without you!" Yet he
was right. She had slain his love before it was born to her--it was born
dead. In an unsteady voice, which had suddenly become husky, she said:

"No doubt you are right. I must leave you to judge. Perhaps you have
thought it all out."

"Don't suppose it will be easy for me, Glory. I've suffered a good deal,
and I dare say I shall suffer more yet. If so, I'll bear it. But for the
sake of my work----"

"Ah!--But of course I can't expect--Naturally you love your work
also----"

"I _do_ love my work also, and therefore it's no use trifling. 'If thine
eye offend--'"

She