ast with the trust and love of the noblest woman I
have ever known, do not return it; let it slip from the hand it made my
own, and find in the blue sea a grave as deep as the chasm--that you
will--shall divide our lives. I honor you too profoundly to question
your course; yet there is an explanation which I owe to myself as well
as to you. Leo, no man can ever be worthy to call you wife, but perhaps
I am less unworthy than you probably deem me? While in New Orleans, I
wrote a long letter, which I afterward decided not to send by mail. I
brought it to-day, intending to put it into your hand."

He took from the inside pocket of his coat, an envelope addressed to
her, broke the seal and pointed at the head of the sheet to the date,
some three weeks earlier. She surmised by that wonderful instinct which
God grants women as armor against the slow, ponderous aggressiveness of
man's tyranny, the nature of its contents. Had she merely anticipated
by an hour his petition for release? Even the bitterness of this
conjecture was neutralized by the testimony it bore to his integrity of
purpose, his unwillingness to conceal his disloyalty. When temples are
shattered and altars crumble, we save our idol and flee into the
wilderness, exulting in the assurance that no clay feet defile it.

Leo shook her head and gently put aside the proffered letter.

"You wrote it for the eyes of one who had pledged herself to bear your
name; the revocation of that promise annuls my right to read it."

Mr. Dunbar understood the apprehension that made her shiver slightly.
She was marching away proudly with flying colors, having dictated the
terms of his capitulation. Should he suffer the imputation of treachery
and intentional deception, rather than turn the tide of battle, trail
her banner in the dust, and add to her pain by mortally stabbing that
intense womanly pride which now swallowed up every emotion of her soul?

The more thoroughly chivalrous a man's nature, the keener his craving
for the honors of war.

"Because henceforth our paths diverge, I prefer to offer you my
exculpation, desiring amid the general wreck, to retain at least your
undiminished esteem. Will you read my confession?"

"No; that would entail the necessity of absolution, and I might not be
able to command the requisite amiability, should occasion demand it. We
have shaken hands with the past, and you owe me nothing now but pardon
for any pain I may have given you, and o