n. I want to make up everything to you--the lonely years,
your deep unhappiness--even," she added shyly, "your little
disappointment in me--"

"You don't understand, Athalie. I am not disappointed--"

"I _do_ understand. And I am thinking of what will happen if you fail
to free yourself.... Because I realize now that I don't propose to
leave you to grow old all alone.... I shall live with you when you're
old whatever people may think. I tell you, Clive, I'm the same child,
the same girl that you once knew, only grown into a woman. I know
right from wrong. I had rather not do wrong. But if I've got to--I
won't whimper. And I'll do it thoroughly!"

"You won't do it at all," he said, smiling at her threat to the little
tin gods.

"I don't know. If they won't give you your freedom, and if--"

"Nonsense, Athalie," he said, laughing, coolly master of himself once
more. "We mustn't be unwholesomely romantic, you and I. I'll marry you
if I can; if I can't, God help us, that's all."

But she had become very grave: "God help us," she repeated slowly.
"Because I believe that, rightly or wrongly, I shall one day belong to
you."

He said: "It can be only in one way. The right way." Perhaps he had
awakened too late to a realisation of his power over her, for the girl
made no response, no longer even looked at him.

"Only one way," he repeated, uneasily;--"the right way, Athalie."

But into her dark blue eyes had come a vague and brooding beauty
which he had never before seen. In it was tenderness, and a new
wisdom, alas! and a faint and shadowy something, profound, starlike,
inscrutable.

"As for love," he said, forcing a lighter tone, "there are fifty-seven
different varieties, Athalie; and only one is poisonous,--unless taken
with the other fifty-six, and in small doses."

She smiled faintly and walked to the window. Rain beat there in the
darkness spattering the little iron balcony. Below, the bleared lights
of the city stretched away to the sky-line.

He followed, and slipped his arm through hers; and she bent her wrist,
interlacing her slim fingers with his.

"You know," he said, "that when I often speak with apparent authority
I am wrong. In the final analysis _you_ are the real leader, Athalie.
Your instincts are the right ones; your convictions honest, your
conclusions just. Mine are too often confused with selfishness and
indecision. For mine is an irresolute character;--or it was. I'm
trying to make it firm