or why they love. I have seen delicacy mate with
coarseness, wit with stupidity, humanity with brutality, religion with
the skeptic, aye, goodness with evil. I, too, ask why? The answer ever
is the same--because of love!"

"Because of it, is reason; is it not?"

"So women say."

"And men?"

"Aye, they say the same; but with men it is another sentiment, I think,
though love is what we call it."

"Why do men love, Carus?"

"Why?" I laughed. "Men love--men love because they find it pleasant, I
suppose--for variety, for family reasons."

"For nothing else?"

"For a balm to that mad passion driving them."

"And--nothing nobler?"

"There is a noble love, part chivalry, part desire, inspired by mind
and body in sweetest unison."

"A mind that seeks its fellow?" she asked softly.

"No, a mind that seeks its complement, as the body seeks. This union, I
think, is really love. But I speak with no experience, Elsin. This only
I know, that you are too young, too innocent to comprehend, and that
the sentiment awakened in you by what you think is love, is not love.
Child, forgive me what I say, but it rings false as the vows of that
young man who importunes you."

"Is it worthy of you, Carus, to stab him so behind his back?"

I leaned forward, my head in my hands.

"Elsin, I have endured these four years, now, a thousand little stings
which I could not resent. Forgetting this, at moments I blurt out a
truth which, were matters otherwise with me, I might back with--what is
looked for when a man repeats what may affront his listener. It is, in
a way, unworthy, as you say, that I speak lightly to you of a man I can
not meet with honor to myself. Yet, Elsin, were my duty first to
you--first even to myself--this had been settled now--this matter
touching you and Walter Butler--and also my ancient score with him,
which is as yet unreckoned."

"What keeps you, then?" she said, and her voice rang a little.

I looked at her; she sat there, proud head erect, searching me with
scornful eyes.

"A small vow I made," said I carelessly.

"And when are you released, sir?"

"Soon, I hope."

"Then, Mr. Renault," she said disdainfully, "I pray you swallow your
dislike of Captain Butler until such time as you may explain your
enmity to him."

The lash stung. I sat dazed, then wearied, while the tingling passed.
Even the silence tired me, and when I could command my voice I said:
"Shall we descend, madam? There is a chill in