he crime of the poor broken creature who only chooses
death and the grave before starvation or shame, compared to the sin of
the wretched woman who murders her soul for sake of the lusts and
vanities of the world? The law of man may punish, the one, but the
vengeance of God is waiting for the other."

She was crying behind her hands, and, in spite of the fury into which he
had lashed himself, a great pity took hold of him. He felt as if
everything were slipping away from him, and he was trying to stand on an
avalanche. But he told himself that he would not waver, that he would
hold to his purpose, that he would stand firm as a rock. Heaving a deep
sigh, he walked to and fro across the room.

"O Glory, Glory! Can't you understand what it is to me to be the
messenger of God's judgment?"

She gasped for breath, and what had been a vague surmise became a
certainty--thinking he was God's avenger, yet with nothing but a poor
spasm of jealousy in his heart, he had come with a fearful purpose to
perform.

"I did what I could in other ways and it was all in vain. Time after time
I tried to save you from these dangers, but you would not listen. I was
ready for any change, any sacrifice. Once I would have given up all the
world for you, Glory--you know that quite well--friends, kinsmen,
country, everything, even my work and my duty, and, but for the grace of
God, God himself!"

But his tenderness broke again into a headlong torrent of reproach. "You
failed me, didn't you? At the last moment, too--the very last! Not
content with the suicide of your own soul, you must attempt to murder the
soul of another. Do you know what that is? That is the unpardonable sin!
You are crying, aren't you? Why are you crying?" But even while he said
this something told him that all he was waiting for was that her
beautiful eyes should be raised and their splendid light flash upon him
again.

"But that is all over now. It was a blunder, and the breach between us is
irreparable. I am better as I am--far, far better. Without friends or kin
or country, consecrated for life, cut off from the world, separate,
alone!"

She knew that her moment had come, and that she must vanquish this man
and turn him from his purpose, whatever it was, by the only weapon a
woman could use--his love of her. "I do not deny that you have a right to
be angry with me," she said, "but don't think that I have not given up
something too. At the time you speak of, when I ch