e
little room while she remained motionless by the table, she put out her
hand to me, and in a low voice, and with still averted eyes said that
she was sorry, deeply sorry. Her tone rang so true and loyal that my
heart throbbed with quick appreciation of her high nature, and I wrung
her outstretched hand.

"God bless you, Judith," I cried, fervently. "Bless you for your sweet
sympathy. Be sorry for me only as for a man who has passed through the
horrors of delirium. But for me as I stand before you now, I ask you not
to be sorry. I have come to bring you, if I can, dear Judith, a measure
of gladness, perhaps of happiness."

She wrenched herself free from me, and a terrified cry of "Marcus!"
checked my dithyrambic appeal. She shrank away so that a great corner of
the dining-table separated us, and she stared at me as though my words
hats been the affrighting utterance of a madman.

"Marcus! What do you mean?" she cried, with an unnatural shrillness in
her voice.

"I mean," said I, "I mean--I mean that 'crushed by three days' pressure,
my three days' love lies slain.' Time has withered him at the root. I
have buried him deep in unconsecrated ground, like a vampire, with a
stake through his heart. And I have come back to you, Judith, humbly
to crave your forgiveness and your love--to tell you I have changed,
dear--to offer you all I have in the world if you will but take it--to
give you my life, my daily, hourly devotion. My God!" I cried, "don't
you believe me?"

She still stared at me in a frightened way, leaning heavier on the
table. Her lips twitched before they could frame the words,

"Yes, I believe you. You have never lied to me."

"Then in the name of love and heaven," I cried, "why do you look at me
like that?"

She trembled, evidently suppressing something with intense effort,
whether bitter laughter, indignation or a passionate outburst I could
not tell.

"You ask why?" she said, unsteadily. "Because you seem like the angel of
the flaming vengeance."

At these astounding words it was my turn to look amazed.

"Vengeance?" I echud. "What wrong have you done me or any living
creature? Come, my dear," and I moved nearer by seating myself on the
corner of the table, close to the type-writer, and leaning towards her,
"let us look at this thing soberly. If ever a man had need of woman I
have need of you. I can live alone no longer. We must share one home
henceforth together. We can snap our fingers at th