nning, he knew that she never
could have followed him. She was immeshed; her feet were caught in the
net. The blandishments of life had taken too deep root in her soul for
her to cast them forth as he had done. And yet his conscience smote him
for her sake, for what she suffered, that she was thus forced to
humiliate herself before him. Sentiment and old memories surged up
within him and urged him to keep her. What, after all, did it matter
where or how they lived? The world would go on its way the same as it
had always done; it didn't wish to be reformed and wasn't worth
reforming.

"Take her! take her!" cried those voices more persistently than ever.
"Don't be a fool and miss this opportunity which, once gone, shall pass
out of your life forever. She's as beautiful and as brilliant as the
other woman; one of your own race and, after all, will wear as well.
Besides, you know her and you don't know the other woman, and if
disappointed in the latter--what then? Take her!"

The vision of Glaire's wonderful conception, "The Lost Illusions," rose
before him. He saw again that exquisite figure of the Egyptian, strong
and sensitive, in the prime of manhood, seated upon the shore of the
Nile, watching the bark of destiny laden with the fair illusions of
youth, draw slowly away from him and grow fainter and fainter in the
soft, mellow light of age, as it floated away on the evening tide of
life. He, too, stood in the prime of manhood. Was this to be his end,
mocked and laughed at by fate--the price he must pay for daring to lift
his eyes from the dust to the stars to fulfill the dream of the ages?
God knew how he had fought against the invisible power that had driven
him on step by step to his present state. He looked down into the
beautiful upturned face of the woman before him whom he had known so
long, whom he had loved and adored; gazed deep into those soft, azure
eyes, limpid as two crystal pools, saw those full red upturned lips
waiting to be kissed--kissed. Again her lips parted.

"Jack, Jack, Sweetheart, I'm waiting--" she murmured softly, encircling
his neck completely with her arm and drawing his face gently down to her
own. Just then the rhythmic silvery whir of wings caused them to look
upward. Through the boughs of the tree they saw the indistinct form of a
white dove that fluttered overhead for an instant and then was gone. At
the same moment Captain Forest distinctly recognized the scent of
Castilian roses, as