d
come primed with the old platitudes, the old sophistries, the old
flatteries, come to treat amicably, and found himself met with armed
resistance, his flatteries and platitudes ridiculed, his sophistries
exposed, and his position attacked with the confidence and courage of
those who are sure of themselves.

"Have you no feeling for me?" he said at last, after a long pause,
speaking somewhat hoarsely.

"I feel sorry for you," was the unexpected answer.

"Pity is akin to love," he said.

"Pity is also akin to contempt," she rejoined. "And how can a woman
feel anything else for a man who is false to the most sacred
obligations? who makes vows and breaks them according to his
inclination? If we make a law of our own inclinations, what assurance
can we give to any one that we shall ever be true?"

"I have found at last what I have yearned for all my life long," he
protested. "I know I shall never waver in my devotion to you."

"That may be," she answered. "But what guarantee could you give me
that _I_ should not waver? What comfort would your fidelity be if I
tired of you in a month?"

Again he was discomfited, and there was another pause.

"If you did change," he said at last, "I should be the only sufferer."

Beth sat silent for a little, then she said slowly, "What you have
ventured to propose to me to-night, Mr. Cayley Pounce, is no more
credit to your intelligence than it is to your principles. You come
here and find me living openly, in an assured position, with powerful
friends, whose affection and respect for me rest on their confidence
in me, and with brilliant prospects besides, as you say, which,
however, depend to a great extent upon my answering to the
expectations I have raised. You allow that I have some ability, some
sense, and yet you offer me in exchange for all these----"

"I offer you _love_!" he exclaimed fervently.

"Love!" she ejaculated with contempt, "you offer me yourself for a
lover, and you seek to inspire confidence in me by deceiving your
wife. You would have me sacrifice a position of safety for a position
of danger--one that might be changed into an invidious position by the
least indiscretion--and all for what?"

"For love of you," he pleaded, "that I may help you to develop the
best that is in you."

"All for the prestige of having your name associated with mine by men
about town in the event of mine becoming distinguished," she
interrupted.

He winced.

"I only ask yo