thing," Geoffrey moving nearer looked down upon her until his
gaze impelled Helen to lift her eyes. There was no longer any trace of
passion in his face, which in spite of its firm lines had grown gentle.

"Only one thing," he repeated. "Please listen--it is necessary, even
if it hurts you. I cannot blame you for my own folly, but my love is
incurable. You are a dutiful daughter, with an almost exaggerated idea
of justice, and I know the power circumstances give me. Still, I am so
covetous that I must have all or nothing; I love you so that I dare not
use the advantage chance has given me. Nevertheless, I will not
despair even yet, and some day when, perhaps, absence has hidden some
of my many shortcomings, I will come back and beg speech with you."

"You are very generous." The words vibrated with sincerity.
"Once--always--I have cruelly wronged you----" but here Geoffrey raised
his hand and looked at the girl with a wry smile that had no mirth in
it.

"You have never wronged me, Miss Savine. Once you spoke with a
marvelous accuracy, and I am not generous, only so unusually wise that
you must have inspired me. I cannot be content with less than the
best, and what that is--again, if I am brutal you must remember I
cannot help my nature--I will tell you."

He stooped, and, before she realized his intentions, deftly caught
Helen's hands in each of his own, tightening his grip on them
masterfully, until he forced her to look up at him. Helen trembled as
she met his eyes. The man had spoken no more than the truth when he
said he could not help his nature, and, suddenly transformed, it was
the former Geoffrey Thurston she had shrunk from who held her fast.

"Yes, I am wise. I know I could bend you to my will now, and that
afterwards you would hate me for it," he told her. "I--I would not
take you so, not if you came to me. Further, for we have dropped all
disguises, and face the naked truth, I have striven, and starved, and
suffered for you, risked my life often--and you shall not cheat me of
my due, which alone is why, because my time is not come yet, I shall go
away. The one reward that will satisfy me is this, that of your own
will you will once more hold my hands and say, 'I love you, Geoffrey
Thurston,' and I can wait with patience--for you will come to me thus
some day."

He bent his head; and Helen felt her heart leap; but it was only her
fingers upon which his lips burned hot. The next moment h