myself, my soul. I obeyed nature and
nature is strong, raw, inevitable. She seeks only her end, which is
concerned with the species. For nature the individual perishes. Nature
cannot be God. For God has created a soul in woman. And through the
ages woman has advanced to hold her womanhood sacred. But ever the
primitive lurks in the blood, and the primitive is nature. Soul and
nature are not compatible. A woman's soul sanctions only love. That is
the only progress there ever was in life. Nature and war made me
traitor to my soul."

"Yes, yes, Mel, it's true--and cruel, what you say," returned Lane.
"All the more reason why you should do what I ask. I am home after the
war. All that was vain _is_ vain. I forget it when I can. I have--not
a great while left. There are a few things even I can do before that
time. One of them--the biggest to me--concerns you. You are in
trouble. You have a boy who can be spared much unhappiness in life.
If you were married--if the boy had my name--how different the
future! Perhaps there can be some measure of happiness for you. For
him there is every hope. You will leave Middleville. You will go far
away somewhere. You are young. You have a good education. You can
teach school, or help your parents while the boy is growing up. Time
is kind. You will forget.... Marry me, Mel, for his sake."

She had both hands pressed to her breast as if to stay an
uncontrollable feeling. Her eyes, dilated and wide, expressed a
blending of emotions.

"No, no, no!" she cried.

Lane went on just the same with other words, in other vein,
reiterating the same importunity. It was a tragic game, in which he
divined he must lose. But the playing of it had inexplicably
bitter-sweet pain. He knew now that Mel loved him. No greater proof
needed he than the perception of her reaction to one word on his
lips--wife. She quivered to that like a tautly strung lyre touched by
a skilful hand. It fascinated her. But the temptation to accept his
offer for the sake of her boy's future was counteracted by the very
strength of her feeling for Lane. She would not marry him, because she
loved him.

Lane read this truth, and it wrung a deeper reverence from him. And he
saw, too, the one way in which he could break her spirit, make her
surrender, if he could stoop to it. If he could take her in his arms,
and hold her tight, and kiss her dumb and blind, and make her
understand his own love for her, his need of her, she would acc