ot understand
that, while the world had progressed, this isolated community had
remained stationary, and that the principles and rules of conduct among
them, still, were those which had governed _his_ world in the beginning
of the century.

He saw that her sympathy had been aroused, that she suffered for, and
with, him, and he could not forbear from striving to push the
advantage. He went on speaking earnestly; he demonstrated that this
marriage which had proved so disastrous was in truth no marriage, and
that its annulment was just and right, for where there was no love, he
argued, there could be no marriage. With all the sophistry; with all
the subtle arguments of which he was master--and they were neither weak
nor few--he assailed her. Every power of his brilliant intellect,
every weapon of his mental armory, all the force of his indomitable
will was brought to bear upon her--and brought to bear in vain.

Calm, pale, resolute, she faced him--her clear eyes meeting his, her
nervous hands folded tightly together. She would not give way. In
their earnestness both had risen, and they stood facing each other on
the hearth-rug, their eyes nearly on a level. The man's hand rested on
the mantle, and quivered with the intensity of his excitement; the
woman's hung straight before her, motionless, but wrung together until
the knuckles showed hard through the tense skin. She would NOT give
way.

Thorne was startled and perplexed. Opposition he was prepared for,
argument he could meet and possibly refute, tears and reproaches he
could subdue--but dumb, quiet resistance baffled him. Suddenly he
abandoned reason, cast self-control to the winds, and gave the reins to
feeling. If he could not convince her through the head, he would try a
surer road--the heart. Though proof against argument, would she be
proof against love? He knew she loved him; he felt it in every fiber
of his being, every pulse of his heart--and he was determined to win
her at all hazards; his she must be; his she _should_ be.

"My love!" he murmured, extending his arms with an appealing tenderness
of look and gesture. "Come to me. Lay your sweet face on my breast,
your dear arms around my neck. I need you, Princess; my heart cries
out for you, and will not be denied. I can not live without you. You
are mine--mine alone, and I claim your love; claim your life. What is
that woman? What is any woman to me, save you, my darling--you only?
My lo