, I am not harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to be
happy. Why should not you, then,--you, a man; I, a woman? Forget me. In
your busy, full life this should be easy. Trust me, no woman is worthy
of spoiling your life for you.

My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart. I
am such a woman. I may never see your face again. Will you not forgive
me?

RUTH.

He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smoking
soup.

"I--I--thought you had forgotten to ring," he stammered, shocked at the
altered face.

"Take it away," said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair. "I
do not wish any dinner, Burke. I am going to my office, and must not be
disturbed."

The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, and
went back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles.

Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at his
desk. He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning. It took
a long time, for he read between the lines. A deep groan escaped him as
he laid it down. It was written as she would have spoken; he could see
the expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable empty
feeling of powerlessness came upon him. He did not blame her,--how could
he, with that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him? He got up
and paced the floor. His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feeling
almost overpowered him. The words of the letter repeated themselves to
him. "Paradise with some other, better woman,"--she might have left that
out; she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself. "I too
shall be happy." Not that, not some other man's wife,--the thought was
demoniacal. He caught his reflection in the glass in passing. "I must
get out of this," he laughed with dry, parched lips. He seized his hat
and went out. The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled with
it, and then came home and wrote to her:--

I can never forgive you; love's litany holds no such word. Be happy if
you can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much,--the fact that you are
somewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth the
living. If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you,
the knowledge will be eternally true. Wherever you are, whatever the
need, remember--I am at hand.

HERBERT KEMP.

Mr. Levice's face was more haggard than Ruth's when, after this answer
was received, she came to him with a ge