cause subject my name to dishonor, that
you will return unbidden at the first moment your reason returns to
you, to take what punishment I will. On this condition I send you
away to-night. Aline, will you promise?"

She did not answer; but her face rose. I did not understand its
look. There was pathos in it, and something else. That something
else troubled me.

"Are you dissatisfied?" I asked. "Is the time too short? Do you
want more months for dancing?"

She shook her head and the little hands rose again:

"Do not send me away," she faintly entreated; "I don't know
why--but I--had rather stay."

"With me? Impossible. Are you ready to promise, Aline?"

Then she rose and looked me in the eye with courage, almost with
resolution.

"As I live!" said she.

And I knew she would keep her word.

The next thing I remember of that night was the sight of her little
white, shivering figure looking out at me from the carriage that
was to carry her away. The night was cold, and I had tucked her in
with as much care as I might have done the evening before, when I
still worshiped her, still thought her mine, or at least as much
mine as she was any one's. When I had done this and pressed a
generous gift into her hand, I stood a minute at the carriage door,
in pity of her aspect. She looked so pinched and pale, so dazed and
hopeless. Had she been alone--but the companion with whom I had
provided her was at her side and my tongue was tied. I turned, and
the driver started up the horses.

"Philo!" I heard blown by me on the wind.

Was it she who called? No, for there was anguish in the cry, the
anguish of a woman, and she was only a frightened, disheartened
child whom I had sent away to--dance.

One month, two months went by, and I began to take up my life.
Another, and she would be home for good or ill. I thought that I
could live through that other. I had heard of her; not from
her--that I did not require; and the stories were all of the same
character. She was enjoying life in the great city to which I had
sent her; radiant at night, if a little spiritless by day. She was
at balls, at concerts and at theaters. She wore jewels and shone
with the best; I might be proud of her conquests and the sweetness
and dignity with which