nd I couldn't
let you marry me without telling you something of what she was."

"Then tell me."

"No, not now; not to-night. Go on your long journey, and come back. When
it's all over, I shall be sure--sure, that is, of myself--sure on the
point about which I'm so much in doubt, as to whether or not the other
woman could return."

"I should be willing to run the risk," he said, with a short laugh,
"even if she did."

"But I shouldn't be willing to let you. You forget she ruined one rich
man; she might easily ruin another."

"That would depend very much upon the man."

"No man can cope with a woman such as I was only a few years ago. You
can put fetters on a criminal, and you can quell a beast to submission,
but you can't bind the subtle, mischievous woman-spirit, bent on doing
harm. It's more ruthless than war; it's more fatal than disease. You,
with your large, generous nature, are the very man for it to fasten on,
and waste him, like a fever."

She moved back from him, close to the bookshelves against the wall. The
eyes which Derek had always seen sad and lustreless glowed with a fire
like the amber's.

"You must understand that I couldn't allow myself to do the same thing
twice," she hurried on, "and, if I married you, who knows but what I
might? I'm not a bad woman by nature, but I think I must need to be held
in repression. You'd be giving me again just those gifts of money,
position, and power which made me dangerous."

"Suppose you were to let me guard against that?" he said.

"You couldn't. It would be like fighting a poisonous vapor with the
sword. The woman's spell, whether for good or ill, is more subtle and
more potent than anything in the universe but the love of God."

"I can believe that, and still be willing to trust myself to yours," he
answered, gravely. "I know you, and honor you as men rarely do the women
they marry, until the proof of the years has tried them. In your case
the trial has come first. I've watched you bear it--watched you more
closely than you've ever been aware of. I've stood by, and seen you
carry your burden, when it was harder than you imagine not to take my
part in it. I've looked on, and seen you suffer, when it was all I could
do to keep from saying some word of sympathy you might have resented.
But, Diane," he cried, his voice taking on a strange, peremptory
sharpness, "I can't do it any longer! My power of standing still, while
you go on with your single-handed f