never did--oh, what a wretched thing!"
And she rose and paced about, clasping her hands.

Stafford was very pale now, but very quiet.

"You never loved me?"

"No."

"But you will. You must, when you know my love--"

"No."

"Yes, but you will. Let me tell you what you are--"

"No, I never can."

"Is it true? Why?"

"Because--oh! don't you see?"

"No. Wasn't it because you loved me that you wouldn't let Eugene speak?"

"No, no, no!"

"Claudia," he cried, clasping her wrist, "were you playing with him?"

No answer seemed possible but the truth.

"Yes," she said, bowing her head.

"And playing with me?"

"No, that's unjust. I never did. I thought--"

"You thought I was beyond hurt?"

"I suppose so. You set up to be."

"Yes, I set up to be," he said bitterly.

"And the truth--in God's name let us have truth--is that you love him?"

"Have you no pity? Why do you press me?"

"I will not press you; God forbid I should trouble you! But is this the
end?"

"Yes."

"It is final--no hope? Think what it means to me."

"If I do care for Mr. Lane, is this friendly to him?"

"I am beyond friendship, as I am beyond conscience. Claudia, turn to me.
No man ever loved as I do."

"I can't help it," she said: "I can't help it!"

Stafford sank down on the seat and sat there for a moment without
speaking. Claudia was awed at the look on his face.

"Don't look like that!" she cried. "You look like a man lost."

"Yes, lost!" he echoed. "All lost--all lost--and for nothing!"

Silence followed for a long time. Then he roused himself, and looked at
her. Claudia's eyes were full of tears.

"It's not your fault, my sweet lady," he said gently. "You are pure and
bright and beautiful, as you ever were, and I have raved and frightened
you. Well, I will go."

"Go where?"

"Where? I don't know yet."

"I am so very, very sorry. But you must try--you must forget about it."

He smiled.

"Yes, I must forget about it."

"You will be yourself again--your old self--not weak like this, but
giving others strength."

"Yes," he said again, humoring her.

"Surely you can do it--you who had such strength. And don't think hardly
of me."

"I think of you as I used to think of God," he said; and bent and
kissed her hand.

"Oh, hush!" she cried. "Pray don't!"

He kissed her hand once again, and then straightened himself, and said:

"Now I am going. You must forget--or remember Millstead, not Territon.
And I--"