her cousin tenderly, but will not meddle with
the tangle we have made of our three lives. Forget that folly, and let
me speak to you as I should. When we parted I thought that you loved
Geoffrey; so did you. When I came here I was sure of it for a day; but
on that second night I saw your face as you stood here alone, and then I
knew what I have since assured myself of. God knows, I think my gain
dearly purchased by his loss. I see your double trial; I know the
tribulations in store for all of us; yet, as an honest man, I must speak
out, because you ought not to delude yourself or Geoffrey another day."

"What right have you to come between us and decide my duty, Adam?"
Sylvia spoke passionately, roused to resistance by his manner and the
turmoil of emotions warring within her.

"The right of a sane man to save the woman he loves from destroying her
own peace forever, and undermining the confidence of the friend dearest
to them both. I know this is not the world's way in such matters; but I
care not; because I believe one human creature has a right to speak to
another in times like these as if they two stood alone. I will not
command, I will appeal to you, and if you are the candid soul I think
you, your own words shall prove the truth of what I say. Sylvia, do you
love your husband?"

"Yes, Adam, dearly."

"More than you love me?"

"I wish I did! I wish I did!"

"Are you happy with him?"

"I was till you came; I shall be when you are gone."

"Never! It is impossible to go back to the blind tranquillity you once
enjoyed. Now a single duty lies before you; delay is weak, deceit is
wicked; utter sincerity alone can help us. Tell Geoffrey all; then,
whether you live your life alone, or one day come to me, there is no
false dealing to repent of, and looking the hard fact in the face robs
it of one half its terrors. Will you do this, Sylvia?"

"No, Adam. Remember what he said that night: 'I love but few, and those
few are my world,'--I am chief in that world; shall I destroy it, for my
selfish pleasure? He waited for me very long, is waiting still; can I
for a second time disappoint the patient heart that would find it
easier to give up life than the poor possession which I am? No, I ought
not, dare not do it yet."

"If you dare not speak the truth to your friend, you do not deserve him,
and the name is a lie. You ask me to remember what he said that
night,--I ask you to recall the look with which he begged you no