e that that's why I went through
the detail of telling you everything. You're not afraid of me in the
least, any more than I am afraid of you."

"No?"

The smile still held.

"No."

"And still--"

"I repeat, it isn't fear of me that prevents your answering." Like a
flash the smile vanished. Simultaneously the voice dropped until it was
very low, yet very steady. "You love me in return, Elice, girl. It isn't
that!"

From the darkness silence, just silence.

"I say, you love me in return. Can you deny it?"

Still not an answering sound nor a motion.

Roberts drew a long breath. His big eloquent hands hung free. "Shall I
put in words the exact reason you won't answer, to prove I know?" he
asked.

"Yes." The voice was just audible.

A moment Roberts paused. "It's because you are afraid, not of me, but of
Steve Armstrong: afraid of the way the Lord fashioned him. Elice, come
out into the light, please. We must face this thing. You're not his
mother, and you don't love him otherwise. Tell me, is a sentiment dead
greater than one living? Will you, must you, sacrifice the happiness of
two for the happiness of one? Answer me, please."

An instant the girl hesitated; obediently she came out into the light,
stood there so, her hand on the pillar of the porch. She did not glance
at her companion, did not dare to do so.

"I repeat, I can't answer you yet," she said simply. "It's bitter, cruel
to you, I know, and to myself; but it would be infinitely worse if--if I
made a mistake." She paused, while a restless hand swept across her
face. "I can't help feeling that I'm to blame a good deal already, that
if I hadn't changed, and shown the change--" She sat down helplessly, the
sentence incomplete. "Oh, I can't bear to think of it. It drives me mad.
To feel you have the responsibility of another's very soul on your hands,
and to have failed in that trust--"

"Elice!"

"Don't stop me. It's true. If I had married him years ago when he first
wished me to do so he'd never have gone down. I cared for him then, or
fancied I did so; and I could have held him up. But instead--"

"Elice! I won't listen. You're morbid and see ghosts where nothing
exists. You're no more to blame for being human and awakening than
lightning is to blame when it strikes." He stood up, suddenly. "Besides,
the past is dead. To attempt to revive it is useless. The future alone
matters; and it's that I wish to talk about. I can't bear to think of
g