ght you--I
always understood--" The memory of his professed suffering, his
oft-expressed adoration for the dead Adele, checked her, filled her
with a storm of doubt, and she could not finish her accusation.

He caught up the thread she dropped. "I _did_ love Adele, I love her
still--a holy, mysterious love--a love you cannot understand; my
feeling for you is different, but no less high. It is the cry of a
lonely, desolate man. Come to me, Viola; do not question; follow your
heart's leadings, as I do." The light of her accusing young eyes
pierced the armor of his defence, and he fell upon his knees before
her. "I can't explain it, but it is true, Viola. I have not deceived
you. I loved her--I love her still. She is vital in my life. I was
sincere in all I said; but you are flesh and she is spirit. Don't you
see? You can comfort me--assist me, work with me as she cannot."

As he poured out his passionate plea, a sense of injury, of
disillusionment, overran the girl. She revolted from the touch of his
head against her knee. "You must not talk to me that way--you belong
to her." She pushed him away. "Get up. Go away from me. I hate you
now."

There was something so final, so convicting in her gesture of
repulsion that the man's head dropped. He covered his face and uttered
a groaning cry, and so lay silently sobbing, while she looked down at
him--woman-grown in that instant. His passion moved her to pity, not
to love, and she put him aside gently and left the room without
further word. Her master, her highest earthly guide, had fallen from
his lofty place and lay grovelling at her feet. This conception, vague
but massive, oppressed her heart, and lay upon her brain like a leaden
cap.

At the moment she, too, despaired of life and knew not where to turn
for aid.

BOOK II

I

THE MODERNISTS

The Bacteriologic Department of the Corlear Medical School stood at
this time on one of the cross-streets of the old East Side, not far
from Corlear Park. It was a large, old-fashioned brick building, worn
of threshold, and as ugly in line as a livery barn. Its entrance was
merely a gap in the wall, its windows rectangular openings to let in
the light. Not one touch of color or grace, not one dignified line
could be detected throughout its whole exterior. It was constructed
for use, not ornament.

Interiorly it was quite as utilitarian. Its halls, bare and cheerless,
echoed to the tread and were repellent as th