mself of her hand. Holding
her hand firmly, he stooped a little lower; searching for the signs
which might answer him in her face. His own face darkened slowly while
he looked. He was beginning to suspect her; and he acknowledged it in
his next words.

"Something has changed you toward me, Clara. Somebody has influenced you
against me. Is it--you force me to ask the question--is it some other
man?"

"You have no right to ask me that."

He went on without noticing what she had said to him.

"Has that other man come between you and me? I speak plainly on my side.
Speak plainly on yours."

"I _have_ spoken. I have nothing more to say."

There was a pause. She saw the warning light which told of the fire
within him, growing brighter and brighter in his eyes. She felt his
grasp strengthening on her hand. He appealed to her for the last time.

"Reflect," he said, "reflect before it is too late. Your silence will
not serve you. If you persist in not answering me, I shall take your
silence as a confession. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Clara Burnham! I am not to be trifled with. Clara Burnham! I insist on
the truth. Are you false to me?"

She resented that searching question with a woman's keen sense of the
insult that is implied in doubting her to her face.

"Mr. Wardour! you forget yourself when you call me to account in that
way. I never encouraged you. I never gave you promise or pledge--"

He passionately interrupted her before she could say more.

"You have engaged yourself in my absence. Your words own it; your looks
own it! You have engaged yourself to another man!"

"If I _have_ engaged myself, what right have you to complain of it?" she
answered firmly. "What right have you to control my actions--?"

The next words died away on her lips. He suddenly dropped her hand. A
marked change appeared in the expression of his eyes--a change which
told her of the terrible passions that she had let loose in him. She
read, dimly read, something in his face which made her tremble--not for
herself, but for Frank.

Little by little the dark color faded out of his face. His deep voice
dropped suddenly to a low and quiet tone as he spoke the parting words.

"Say no more, Miss Burnham--you have said enough. I am answered; I am
dismissed." He paused, and, stepping close up to her, laid his hand on
her arm.

"The time may come," he said, "when I shall forgive you. But the man who
has robbed me of you shall rue t