I have you again there is no power in
you--no power between earth and heaven to take you from me a second
time. Give yourself to me with a word, and I shall make you mine
forever. Then Caroline shall go free--free as the wind--to her lover, my
dear, who is waiting."

He made no step toward her, and he kept his voice smooth and clear. Had
he done otherwise he knew that she would have shrunk. She looked to him,
she looked to Caroline Smith. The latter had suddenly raised her head
and thrown out her hands, with an unutterable appeal in her eyes. At
that mute appeal Ruth Tolliver surrendered.

"It's enough," she said. "I think there would be no place for me after
all. What could I do in the world except what you've taught me to do?
No, let Caroline go freely, and I give my--"

"Stop!"

He checked her with his raised hand, and his eyes blazed and glittered
in the dead whiteness of his face. "Don't give me your word, my dear. I
don't want that chain to bind you. There might come a time when some
power arose strong enough to threaten to take you from me. Then I want
to show you that I don't need your promise. I can hold you for myself.
Only come to me and tell me simply that you will be mine if you can.
Will you do that?"

She crossed the room slowly and stood before him. "I will do that," she
said faintly, half closing her eyes. She had come so close that, if he
willed, he could have taken her in his arms. She nerved herself against
it; then she felt her hand taken, raised and touched lightly against
trembling lips. When she stepped back she knew that the decisive moment
of her life had been passed.

"You are free to go," said John Mark to Caroline. "Therefore don't wait.
Go at once."

"Ruth!" whispered the girl.

Ruth Tolliver turned away, and the movement brought Caroline beside her,
with a cry of pain. "Is it what I think?" she asked. "Are you making the
sacrifice all for me? You don't really care for him, Ruth, and--"

"Caroline!" broke in John Mark.

She turned at the command of that familiar voice, as if she had been
struck with a whip. He had raised the curtain of the front window beside
the door and was pointing up and across the street.

"I see the window of Gregg's room," he said. "A light has just appeared
in it. I suppose he is waiting. But, if you wish to go, your time is
short--very short!"

An infinite threat was behind the calmness of the voice. She could only
say to Ruth: "I'll never forget."