the very thing that he went to prison to prevent.
You're going to denounce me, aren't you?"

"To save him--yes."

"When it isn't necessary, when it will cause a dreadful calamity. If he
wanted to be saved that way, wouldn't he denounce me himself? He knows my
name, he knows the whole story. Wouldn't he tell it himself if he wanted it
told?"

The girl hesitated, taken aback at this new view. "I suppose he thinks it a
matter of honor."

"Exactly. And you who pretend to love him have so little heart, so little
delicacy, that you care nothing for what he thinks a matter of honor. A
pretty thing _your_ sense of honor must be!"

"Oh!" shrank Alice, and the woman, seeing her advantage, pursued it
relentlessly. "Did you ever hear of a _debt_ of honor? How do you know that
your lover doesn't owe _me_ such a debt and isn't paying it now down
there?"

So biting were the words, so fierce the scorn, that Alice found herself
wavering. After all, she knew nothing of what had happened, nor could she
be sure of Lloyd's wishes. He had certainly spoken of things in his life
that he regretted. Could it be that he was bound in honor to save this
woman _at any cost?_ As she stood irresolute, there came up from below the
sound of steps on the stairs, ascending steps, nearer and nearer, then
distinctly the clatter of Valentine's wooden shoes, then another and a
heavier tread. The sacristan was coming.

"Here is your chance," taunted the lady; "give me up, denounce me, and then
remember what Lloyd will remember _always_, that when a distressed and
helpless sister woman came to you and trusted you, you showed her no pity,
but deliberately wrecked her life."

Half sorry, half triumphant, but without a word, Alice watched the torture
of this former rival; and now the loud breathing of the sacristan was
plainly heard on the stairs.

"Remember," flung out the other in a final defiance that was also a final
appeal, "remember that nothing brought me here but the sacredness of a love
that is gone, a sacredness that _I_ respect and _he_ respects but that _you
trample on_."

As she said this Valentine emerged from the tower door followed wearily by
Papa Bonneton, in full regalia, his mild face expressing all that it could
of severity.

"What has happened?" he said sharply to Alice. Then, with a habit of
deference, he lifted his three-cornered hat to the lady: "Madam will
understand that it was difficult for me to leave my duties."

Madam