ured, in the same dreamy tone, placing her hand upon his arm.

At the name of Winter, Effingston drew back. Had she not by those
unguarded words confirmed her guilt? All his pride and anger returned.
The resolutions which had but a moment since departed, banished by
that helpless figure in the moonlight, now came again with greater
strength. Of what weakness, he asked himself, had he been guilty? Of
kissing the lips not yet cold from the caresses of him who had defiled
them.

"Very--brave--in--thee," the girl repeated, in a dull monotone.

Effingston glanced at her, but that piteously bewildered face cannot
move him, and he coldly answered:

"'Tis the duty of every gentleman to protect the life of a woman, even
though her shame be public talk."

Evidently the girl had not heard, or at least the words made no
impression upon her brain, for she nestled closely to him like a
frightened child seeking protection.

"Come," he whispered. She obeyed without a word. They passed upon
their way in silence and at last reached her dwelling. Effingston
opened the door which stood unbarred, and assisted her to enter. He
turned to go, not trusting himself to speak.

"Thou wert not always accustomed to leave me thus," exclaimed the
girl, in a voice destitute of expression. "See," she continued, "I
will kiss thee even without thy asking," and before the man realized
her intent, she threw her arms about him and pressed her lips to his.
"They are cold," she murmured, with a shiver. "But the night is
chilly--look! now the east is streaked with red." Turning, she
pointed to the sky, dyed with the crimson light of coming day. The
ruddy glow crept up, touching the girl and turning the snow at her
feet to the color of the rose.

"Come to me, dear heart," she whispered, holding out her arms; "take
me to thee, that on thy breast I may find a sweet and dreamless
sleep."

The sun arose; but upon no sadder sight than this man, who plodded
wearily homeward--warring forces within, and a desert all about. On
his way through the silent streets, made more desolate by the
cheerless light of coming day, he saw for a moment a mirage of an
honorable love and happiness. In the fair city of his dream he beheld
a bright and happy home, made so and adorned by the girl whose kiss
was still upon his lips. There, always awaited him a heart which,
through its love, added to each blessing, and dulled every sorrow.
Ever on the portal stood a being he worsh