d such a child! It would have seemed like sacrilege to love her as
a man loves a woman--that little sprite of a creature. And then I met
you. You dazzled me, Lady Diana. That's the word for it. I think no
other would fit. But I didn't know I was _only_ dazzled, till you took
the light away. As soon as the bright spots faded from before my eyes,
as bright spots do at last when you've been staring at the sun, I saw
things as they really were. I saw what my feeling for you was worth, and
what my feeling for Peggy might grow to be. But I tried not to let it
grow. I'd suffered enough. I was down and out, and if I wasn't worthy of
you, still less was I worthy of Peggy. Besides, I thought she was
engaged to Dalziel, and I wanted to be glad for her. He's a good fellow.
Then we were thrown together in Belgium, she and I; and if I hadn't
loved her before, I should have begun to love her then, as a man loves
just one girl in his life. Whatever I have done since--the few small
things I have been able to do--have all been with the thought of her in
my heart as a lodestar. So now you will understand, Lady Diana, how
little impression you can make upon me by calling your sister a
traitor."

"You say all this to hurt me!" Diana cried out. "But you did care for me
once, Eagle. Do not forget that!"

"I forget nothing," he said. "But the time you speak of seems a long
time ago, I care so much more for Peggy now. Just how much I care for
her, I am going to prove to you in a moment."

For a second he paused, while Di waited, not knowing what to say; and it
seemed as if I were waiting, too; my heart and breath stopped for his
next words.

"If I had ever loved you as dearly as I once thought I did," he went on,
sadness in his voice, "I suppose I could have refused you nothing when
you came to me to-night. But--I don't defend myself--I only confess to
the hardness in me; you haven't moved me at all. You were cruel as the
grave to me. I could be cruel in return to you. That is, I could act as
I thought right and be indifferent to the effect on you. Your husband
did his best to ruin me. Virtually, he did ruin me. Even to-night he has
lied again, the same old lie, to pull me down if he could from the
miserable little height I've crawled up to, like a singed moth creeping
out of the flame. Did you ever believe in his truth and my
guilt--believe in the depths of your soul--if you have a soul? I doubt
it! Anyhow, you helped his lies to-night, as