me. Leave De la Foret to
his fate. The way to happiness is with me. Will you come?"

He had made his great effort. As he spoke he almost himself believed
that he told the truth. Under the spell of his own emotional power
it seemed as though he meant to marry her, as though he could find
happiness in the union. He had almost persuaded himself to be what he
would have her to believe he might be.

Under the warmth and convincing force of his words her pulses had beat
faster, her heart had throbbed in her throat, her eyes had glistened;
but not with that light which they had shed for Michel de la Foret.
How different was this man's wooing--its impetuous, audacious, tender
violence, with that quiet, powerful, almost sacred gravity of
her Camisard lover! It is this difference--the weighty, emotional
difference--between a desperate passion and a pure love which has ever
been so powerful in twisting the destinies of a moiety of the world to
misery, who otherwise would have stayed contented, inconspicuous and
good. Angele would have been more than human if she had not felt the
spell of the ablest intriguer, of the most fascinating diplomatist of
his day.

Before he spoke of marriage the thrill--the unconvincing thrill though
it was--of a perilous temptation was upon her; but the very thing most
meant to move her only made her shudder; for in her heart of hearts
she knew that he was ineradicably false. To be married to one
constitutionally untrue would be more terrible a fate for her than to be
linked to him in a lighter, more dissoluble a bond. So do the greatest
tricksters of this world overdo their part, so play the wrong card when
every past experience suggests it is the card to play. He knew by the
silence that followed his words, and the slow, steady look she gave him,
that she was not won nor on the way to the winning.

"My lord," she said at last, and with a courage which steadied her
affrighted and perturbed innocence, "you are eloquent, you are fruitful
of flattery, of those things which have, I doubt not, served you well
in your day. But, if you see your way to a better life, it were well you
should choose one of nobler mould than I. I am not made for sacrifice,
to play the missioner and snatch brands from the burning. I have enough
to do to keep my own feet in the ribbon-path of right. You must
look elsewhere for that guardian influence which is to make of you a
paragon."

"No, no," he answered sharply, "you thi