ady pledged as man and wife."

"That is not true!" broke in Ellen, her voice low and even. She at least
had herself in hand and would tolerate no vulgar scene.

"I could not blame either of you for denying it."

"It was Gordon Orme that told her," I said to Ellen.

She would not speak or commit herself, except to shake her head, and to
beat her hands softly together as I had seen her do before when in
distress.

"A gentleman must lie like a gentleman," went on Grace Sheraton,
mercilessly. "I am here to congratulate you both."

I saw a drop of blood spring from Ellen's bitten lip.

"What she says is true," I went on to Ellen. "It is just as Gordon Orme
told your father, and as I admitted to you. I was engaged to be married
to Miss Sheraton, and I am still so engaged."

Still her small hands beat together softly, but she would not cry out,
she would not exclaim, protest, accuse. I went on with the accusation
against myself.

"I did not tell you. I had and have no excuse except that I loved you. I
am here now for my punishment. You two shall decide it."

At last Ellen spoke to my fiancee. "It is true," said she. "I thought
myself engaged to Mr. Cowles. I did not know of you--did not know that
he had deceived me, too. But fortunately, my father found us before it
was too late."

"Let us spare ourselves details," rejoined Grace Sheraton. "He has
wronged both of us."

"Yes, he has done wrong," I heard Ellen say. "Perhaps all men do--I do
not want to know. Perhaps they are not always to blame--I do not want to
know."

The measure of the two women was there in those words, and I felt it.

"Could you want such a man?" asked Grace Sheraton, bitterly. I saw Ellen
shake her head slowly. I heard her lips answer slowly. "No," she said.
"Could you?"

I looked to Grace Sheraton for her answer, and as I looked I saw a
strange and ghastly change come over her face. "My God!" she exclaimed,
reaching out a hand against a tree trunk to steady herself, "Your
leavings? No! But what is to become of me!"

"You wish him?" asked Ellen. "You are entirely free. But now, if you
please, I see no reason why I should trouble you both. Please, now, I
shall go."

But Grace Sheraton sprang to her side as she turned. I was amazed at her
look. It was entreaty on her face, not anger! She held out her hands to
Ellen, her face strangely distorted. And then I saw Ellen's face also
change. She put out her hand in turn.

"There," she said,