ce would yawn like a gulf between us with
its impassable darkness.

"And the ruin on the hill-side is an eye-sore," I said. "But it is
easy to remove it. I suppose it belongs to me. For--look here--it is I
who must be the last of the Rayniers." And I drew from my breast the
broken thing, the halved miniature, that in my mock sentiment I had
worn so long.

"You!" cried he. "You!" And his feet tottered, and he leaned against
the casement for support--he who an hour or so ago had seemed so full
of repressed strength that he could have pulled his house down about
his ears. Well, had he not done so?

I moved to his side, and held the thing that he might see where the
pieces matched, the line of the cheek flowing into the lovely curve of
the chin, the flickering sweetness of the lovely mouth, the lambent
glance of the lovely eye. "It is my mother, you see," I said. "And it
needs no words to say it."

"It needs no words to say it," he repeated, hoarsely. "It is your
image. Oh, my God! What have I done! what have I done! My darling, my
darling, you must let me repair it by a lifetime of devotion." And he
had his arms about me, and was drawing me to his heaving breast, his
throbbing heart.

"No! no! no!" I sobbed. "It is impossible. I am wrecked; I am ruined;
I can be no man's wife. You see yourself--I will never--" But his lips
were silencing mine, and I lay there with those arms about me a
moment; I lay there like one in heaven suspended over hell.

"What do I care," he whispered, "for all the Rayniers in Christendom
or out of it, but you? I have learned in this moment that you love me!
I will never give you up."

"You must," I groaned.

"I tell you I never will," he said, his voice husky and low and
trembling, but his eye and his grasp firm. "I have assured you that
environment, education, art, can supplement nature and heredity. They
have done so with you. You are your father's child. You received from
your mother only the vital spark, only this beauty, this fatal beauty.
If you inherited all that the Rayniers ever had, then I love, I love,
I love all that the Rayniers ever were, for I love you. I have your
love, Helena, and I will never let you go." While speaking he had
touched the bell at his hand, and now he sent the answering servant
for Dr. Devens, who came at once, supposing some sight of the snow
was in store.

"Bid them all out here, Doctor," cried Colonel Vorse. "Ah, here they
come! In this part of the