e part he played in this interview;
but every man knows well his condition.

"I care not," continued John, "in what manner I have offended you, nor
does my debt of gratitude to you for your generosity in forgiving my sins
weigh one scruple against this you have told me. No man, unless he were a
poor clown, would endure it; and I tell you now, with all my love for you,
I will not--I will not!"

Dorothy was beginning to fear him. She of course did not fear personal
violence; but after all, while he was slower than she, he was much
stronger every way, and when aroused, his strength imposed itself upon her
and she feared to play him any farther.

"Sit beside me, John, and I will tell you his name," said the girl,
looking up to him, and then casting down her eyes. A dimpling smile was
playing about her lips.

"No, I will not sit by you," replied John, angrily. She partly rose, and
taking him by the arm drew him to her side.

"Tell me his name," again demanded John, sitting rigidly by Dorothy. "Tell
me his name."

"Will you kill him?" she asked.

"That I will," he answered. "Of that you may rest assured."

"If you kill him, John, it will break my heart; for to do so, you must
commit suicide. There is no other man but you, John. With you I had my
first, last, and only experience."

John, of course, was speechless. He had received only what he deserved. I
freely admit he played the part of a fool during this entire interview
with Dorothy, and he was more fully convinced of the fact than either you
or I can be. I do not like to have a fool for the hero of my history; but
this being a history and not a romance, I must tell you of events just as
they happened, and of persons exactly as they were, else my conscience
will smite me for untruthfulness. Dorothy's last assault was too much for
John. He could neither parry nor thrust.

Her heart was full of mirth and gladness.

"None other but you, John," she repeated, leaning forward in front of him,
and looking up into his eyes. A ray of moonlight stealing its way between
the forest boughs fell upon her upturned face and caused it to glow with a
goddess-like radiance.

"None but you, John. There never has been and there never shall be
another."

When John's consciousness returned he said, "Dorothy, can you love such a
fool as I?"

"That I can and that I do with all my heart," she returned.

"And can you forgive me for this last fault--for doubting you?"

"That is e