in her lap. There was decision, too, in the
quickness with which he rose and stood looking down at her. For a second
she expected him to turn from her, as he had turned once before, and
leave her with no explanation beyond a few laconic words. She held her
breath while she awaited them.

"Then that means," he said, at last, "that you put me in the position of
taking all, while you give all."

"I don't put you in any position whatever. The circumstances are not of
my making. They are as much beyond my control as they are beyond yours."

"They're not wholly beyond mine. If there are some things I can't do,
there are some I can prevent."

"What things?"

His tone alarmed her, and she struggled to her feet.

"You're willing to make me a great sacrifice; but at least I can refuse
to accept it."

"What do you mean?" She moved slightly back from him, behind the
protection of one of the tables piled breast-high with its white load.

"You're willing to lose for me the last vestige of your good name--"

"I don't care anything about that," she said, hurriedly.

"But I do. I won't let you."

"How can you stop me?" she asked, staring at him with large, frightened
eyes.

"I shall tell Dorothea's part in the story."

"You'd--?" she began, with a questioning cry.

"All who care to hear it, shall. They shall know it from its beginning
to its end. They shall lose no detail of her folly or of your wisdom."

"You would sacrifice your child like that?"

"Yes, like that. Neither she nor I can remain so indebted to any one, as
you would have us be to you."

"You--wouldn't--be--indebted--to--me?"

"Not to so terrible an extent. If it's a choice between your good name
and hers--hers must go. She'd agree with me herself. She wouldn't
hesitate for one single fraction of an instant--if she knew. She'd be
grateful to you, as I am; but she couldn't profit by your magnanimity."

"So that the alternative you offer me is this: I can protect myself by
sacrificing Dorothea, or I can marry you, and Dorothea will be saved."

"I shouldn't express it in just those words, but it's something like
it."

"Then I'll marry you. You give me a choice of evils, and I take the
least."

"Oh! Then to marry me would be--an evil?"

"What else do you make it? You'll admit that it's a little difficult to
keep pace with you. You come to me one day accusing me of sin, and on
another announcing my contrition, while on the third you may be in some