r itself.

His arm was around her now, their faces drawn close together, and in the
pale, faint light they looked each other deep in the eyes. Then their
lips met in a long kiss.

"You see how it is," he whispered; "you can't help it. It's got to be.
No one has power to prevent it."

But he spoke without knowledge, for there was one who had power to
prevent it, one conquered, helpless, less than a ghost, who yet could
lay an icy hand on the warm, high-beating heart of her subduer, and say:
"Love and desire, the pride of life and the freedom of the world, are
not for you. I forbid them to you--I--by a power stronger than the laws
of God or man. True, you have no husband, you have no child, for those
who seem to be yours are mine. You have taken them from me, and now you
must keep them, whether you will or no. You have taken my life from me,
and my life you must have, that and none other."

It was against this unknown and inflexible power that George Goring
struggled with all the might of his love, and absolutely in vain.
Between him and Mildred there could be no lies, no subterfuges; only
that one silence which to him, of all others, she dared not break.

She seemed to have been engaged in this struggle, at once so sweet and
so bitter, for an eternity before she stood on her own doorstep,
latch-key in hand.

"Good-night, Mr. Goring. So much obliged for the lift."

"Delighted, I'm sure. All right now? Good-night. Drop me at the House,
Edwards."

He lifted his hat, stepped in and closed the carriage-door sharply
behind him; and in a minute the brougham with its lights rolling almost
noiselessly behind the big fast-trotting bay horse, had disappeared
around a neighboring corner.

* * * * *

The house was cold and dark, except for a candle which burned on an oak
dresser in the narrow hall. As Mildred dragged herself up the stairs,
she had a sensation of physical fatigue, almost bruisedness, as though
she had come out of some actual bodily combat. Her room, fireless and
cold, was solitary, for Ian's sleep had to be protected from
disturbance. Nevertheless, having loosened her wraps, she threw herself
on the bed and lay there long, her bare arms under her head. The
sensation of chill, her own cold soft flesh against her face, seemed to
brace her mind and body, to restore her powers of clear, calm judgment,
so unlike the usual short-sighted, emotionalized judgments of youth. She
had n