gly,
as though to a child--"Except in the dreams of poets, and
you--fortunately!--know nothing about poetry! The wild animal in you is
attracted to the tame, ruminating animal in me,--and you would be my
woman, though I would not be your man. I quite believe that it is the
natural instinct of the female to select her mate,--but, though the
rule may hold good in the forest world, it doesn't always work among
the human herd. Man considers that he has the right of selection--quite
a mistake of his I'm sure, for he has no real sense of beauty or
fitness, and generally selects most vilely. All the same he is an
obstinate brute, and sticks to his brutish ideas as a snail sticks to
its shell. _I_ am an obstinate brute!--I am absolutely convinced that I
have the right to choose my own woman, if I want one--which I
don't,--or if ever I do want one--which I never shall!"

She drew her hands quickly from his grasp. There were tears in her
splendid dark eyes.

"You talk, you talk!" she said, with a kind of sob in her voice--"It is
all talk with you--talk which I cannot understand! I don't WANT to
understand!--I am only a poor, ignorant girl. I cannot talk--but I can
love! Ah yes, I can love! You say there is no such thing as love! What
is it then, when one prays every night and morning for a man?--when one
would work one's fingers to the bone for him?--when one would die to
keep him from sickness and harm? What do you call it?"

He smiled.

"Self-delusion, Manella! The beautiful self-delusion of every
nature-bred woman when her fancy is attracted by a particular sort of
man. She makes an ideal of him in her mind and imagines him to be a
god, when he is nothing but a devil!"

Something sinister and cruel in his look startled her,--she made the
sign of the cross on her bosom.

"A devil?" she murmured--"a devil--?"

"Ah, now you are frightened!" he said, with a flash of amusement in his
eyes--"You are a good Catholic, and you believe in devils. So you make
the sign of the cross as a protection. That's right! That's the way to
defend yourself from my evil influence! Wise Manella!"

The light mockery of his tone roused her pride,--that pride which had
been suppressed in her by the force of a passionate emotion she could
not restrain. She lifted her head and regarded him with an air of
sorrow and scorn.

"After all, I think you must be a wicked man!" she said--"You have no
heart! You are not worthy to be loved!"

"Quite tru