it was?"

"If you loved her in the first instance, I suppose it was inevitable,"
said Teresa steadily. "But you were engaged to me." She lifted her
eyes with a reproachful glance. "You chose _me_. You said you loved
me... All these weeks we have gone on peacefully, without a hitch. I
never noticed any change. As you insist on talking about it, I should
like to understand one thing.--Is it that you grew tired of me? Was I
different from what you expected? When did you stop--caring for me at
all?"

"My dear, I have not stopped! I do care. You have been all that is
sweet and kind. I tell you honestly that I care for you more, not less,
than when we were first engaged."

"Then--Why? I _don't_ understand!"

"Ah, Teresa, neither did I... That's the pity of it. It was a mistake
from the beginning. I was lonely, and I wanted a wife, and I liked you
better than any of the other girls. I was honestly fond of you, dear.
I am now,--but, Teresa! it was affection, not love. I had no idea what
that meant.--It is only the last few days that I have known... There is
a world of difference between the two things."

The colour flamed in Teresa's cheeks.

"There _is_ a world of difference. One is right. The other is--sin!
It is wicked to love your friend's wife."

Dane's lips twisted in a grim smile.

"It is a misfortune, Teresa, a horrible misfortune for us all, but there
is nothing that could possibly be called wicked about it, as matters
stand to-day. Don't be too hard on me. I am about as miserable as a
man can be. There seems no way out of it. I'd give everything I
possess, if I could go back and be as I was when we were first engaged,
content and happy, with the prospect of happiness to come."

"I _did_ make you happy for a time, then, even though it wasn't--the
best?" Teresa's face relaxed from its hard composure; a faint twitching
showed at the corner of the mouth. "Dane! what was it? Tell me! I
must know. What was it made you love her more? She's beautiful, but
I'm pretty too, and so much younger, and she wears lovely clothes, but
you liked me to be simple; and she's clever and amusing--sometimes! but
other times she's quite dull, and we had always plenty to say, you and
I. I took an interest in all you did."

Dane's sigh was compounded of pity for Teresa, and for himself at the
memory of that "interest." It was true that she had questioned him
ceaselessly about his affairs, and had on f