signified the end--the denial of all the exquisite trust and
understanding which love should represent. If she could think for an
instant that he would have asked aught from her at a moment when they
were so far apart in spirit, then she had not understood the ideal
oneness of body and soul which love signified to him, and the knowledge
that she had actually sought to protect herself from him had hurt him
unbearably.

"Last night," he said slowly, "you showed me that you have no trust, no
faith in me any longer."

And Diana, misunderstanding, thinking of the secret which he would not
share with her, and impelled by the jealousy that obsessed her, replied
impetuously:--

"Yes, I meant to show you that. You refuse me your confidence, and
expect me to believe in you! You set me aside for Adrienne de Gervais,
and then you ask me to--_trust_ you? How can I? . . . I'm not a fool,
Max."

"So it's that? The one thing over which I asked your faith?" The
limitless scorn in his voice lashed her.

"You had no right to ask it!" she broke out bitterly. "Oh, you knew
what it would mean. I, I was too young to realise. I didn't think--I
didn't understand what a horrible thing a secret between husband and
wife might be. But I can't bear it--I can't bear it any longer! I
sometimes wonder," she added slowly, "if you ever loved me?"

"If I ever loved you?" he repeated. "There has never been any other
woman in the world for me. There never will be."

The utter, absolute conviction of his tones knocked at her heart, but
fear and jealousy were stronger than love.

"Then prove it!" she retorted. "Take me into your confidence; put
Adrienne out of your life."

"It isn't possible--not yet," he said wearily. "You're asking what I
cannot do."

She took a step nearer.

"Tell me this, then. What did Olga Lermontof mean when she bade me ask
your name? Oh!"--with a quick intake of her breath--"you _must_ answer
that, Max; you _must_ tell me that. I have a _right_ to know it!"

For a moment he was silent, while she waited, eager-eyed, tremulously
appealing, for his answer. At last it came.

"No," he said inflexibly. "You have no--right--to ask anything I
haven't chosen to tell you. When you gave me your love, you gave me
your faith, too. I warned you what it might mean--but you gave it.
And I"--his voice deepened--"I worshipped you for it! But I see now, I
asked too much of you. More"--cynically--"than any woman