shed me. I had begun to think myself a
miserable creature just because I am poor. Now, if money is the only
thing that counts in the world, of course I am a miserable creature, and
then let us drink life to its dregs; and if it is not the only thing,
well then, let us drink the other things to their dregs." She said,
"What other things?"

"Why, the beauty of struggling together with every material
consideration cast out! Think how beautiful it is to work for one you
love; think of the beauty of being all in all to each other, Mary!"

"But we are that, Tony."

Now that Antony had embarked, he spoke rapidly. "You owe your luxury to
your husband whom you never loved. Now I cannot let you owe him anything
more, Mary."

She began, "But I don't think of my fortune in connection with him."

Antony did not hear her. "I feel lately as though I had been selling my
soul," he said passionately. "And what can a man have in exchange for
his soul? Of course, it was presumptuous folly of me to have asked you
to marry me."

She put both her hands over his and breathed his name. He spoke
desperately, and the picture rose up before him of his bare studio and
his meagre life.

"Will you marry me now?"

"I said I was quite ready."

"The day will come when I will be rich and great." He paused. He saw
that her eyes were already troubled, and asked eagerly, "You believe
that, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Great enough, rich enough, not to make a woman ashamed. You must wait
for that time with me."

Mary Faversham said quietly, "You have been shutting yourself up with a
lot of fanatical ideas."

He covered her lips gently with his hands. His face became grave.

"Oh," he said, "don't speak--wait. You don't dream what every word you
say is going to mean--wait. You don't understand what I mean!"

And he began to tell her the gigantic sacrifice he was about to impose
upon her. If he had been assured of his love for her, assured of her
love for him, he might have made a magnetic appeal, but he seemed to be
talking to her through a veil. He shook his head.

"No, I cannot ask it, Mary."

Mary Faversham's face had undergone a change. It was never lovelier
than now, as with gravity and sweetness she put her arms around his neck
and looked up at him with great tenderness. She said--

"I think I know what you mean. You want me to give up my fortune and go
to you."

She seemed to radiate before Fairfax's eyes, and his worship of her