on't cry any more. Shall I go and pack your valise now or leave it
until to-morrow morning?"

He glanced at her uneasily. The dark, soft eyes looked far away seaward,
the delicate lips had ceased to tremble, the small handsome face had
grown resolutely still. What manner of woman he wondered, was this girl
going to make?

"Norine! You are not offended?"

"Offended--with you, Laurence? No, that is not possible."

"You love me so much, Norine?"

"I have given you proof whether I love you or no. I am your wife."

"Yes, of course, of course!" hastily; "but Norine--see here--suppose in
the future I did some great wrong--deserted you for instance--no, no!
don't look at me like that--this is only a suppositious case, you know!"

The large dark eyes were fixed full upon him. He laughed in rather a
flurried way, and his own shifted and fell.

"Go on," she said.

"Suppose I deserted you, and it was in your power to take revenge, you
would hate me and take it--would you not?"

Into the dark, tender eyes there leaped a light--into the youthful,
gentle face there came a glow--around the soft-cut, childlike mouth
there settled an expression entirely new to Laurence Thorndyke. One
little hand clenched unconsciously--she caught her breath for a second,
hard.

"Yes," she said, "I would!"

The answer staggered him--literally and truly staggered him. He had not
expected it--he had looked for some outbreak of love, some tender,
passionate protest.

"Norine!" he cried, "you would! Do you know what you are saying? You
would hate me, and ruin me for life if you could?"

She looked at him full.

"If you deserted me, would you not hate me? Would I not be ruined for
life? And does not the Book of books say: 'An eye for an eye, a tooth
for a tooth, a life for a life.' Yes, Laurence--if I did not go mad and
die, I would hate you more then I love you now, and be revenged if I
could!"

Then there was a silence. He had grown pale as herself, and stood quite
motionless looking at the sea. He knew what he had to expect at last.

Norine was still clinging to his arm. He disengaged it abruptly, and
without a word or look, walked away from her. A moment she stood--then
two little hands clasped the arm once more, a pleading voice spoke, and
the sweet, tender face of Norine looked imploringly up at him.

"Laurence--dearest Laurence! I have angered you again. But you asked me
a question and I had to answer it. Forgive me."

He turned