and have been known for some time, as you know, as Melanie
Reynier."

"I know you wish to tell me all these things, Melanie, but I do not
want you to recall painful matters of the past now," said Aleck gently.
"You shall tell me of them at another time."

The color brightened in Melanie's face, her eyes glowed.

"No, not another time; you must understand now, especially because all
this preface leads me to what I really want to say to you. It is this:
I do not now care for the man I loved at nineteen, nor for any of the
other men of my country who have been pleased to honor me with their
regard. But ever since those early days I have had a dream of a
home--a place different from Duke Stephen's home, different from the
homes of many people of my rank. My dream has a husband in it who is a
companion, a friend, my equal in love, my superior in strength."
Melanie's eyes lifted to meet Aleck's, and they were full of an almost
tragic passion; but it was a passion for comprehension and love, not
primarily for the man sitting before her. She added simply: "And for
my dream I'd give all the wealth, all the love, I have."

The room was very still. Aleck Van Camp sat quiet and grave, his
forehead resting on his hand. He looked up, finally, at Melanie, who
was beside him, pale and quite worn.

"Poor child! You needed me more than I thought!" was what he said.

But Melanie had not quite finished. "No, that is not enough, that I
should need you. You must also need me, want what I alone can give
you, match my love with yours. And this, I think, you do not do. You
calculate, you remain cool, you plan your life like a campaign, and I
am part of your equipment. You are a thousand times better than Count
Lorenzo, but I think your principles of reasoning are the same. You do
not love me enough, and that is why I can not say yes."

Aleck had taken this last blow standing. He walked slowly around and
stood before Melanie, much as he had stood before her when he first
asked her to marry him; and this time, as he looked down on her
fairness, there was infinite gentleness and patience and love in his
eyes. He bent over, lifted Melanie's two hands, and drew her bodily
out of her seat. She was impassive. Her quick alertness, her
vitality, her passionate seriousness, had slipped away. Aleck put his
arms around her very tenderly, and kissed her lips; not a lover's kiss
exactly, and yet nothing else. Then he looked into her