ible form of words. Even Strong has to do this. Why may you
not take mine?"

"I hardly know what to trust in," said Esther sadly.

"Then trust in me."

"I wish I could, but--"

"But what? Tell me frankly where your want of confidence lies."

"I want to tell you, but I'm afraid. This is what has stood between us
from the first. If I told you what was on my lips, you would think it an
insult. Don't drive me into offending you! If you knew how much I want
to keep your friendship, you would not force me to say such things."

"I will not be offended," answered Hazard gayly. "I can stand almost any
thing except being told that you no longer love me."

It wrung Esther's heart to throw away a love so pure and devoted. She
felt ashamed of her fears and of herself. As he spoke, her ears seemed
to hear a running echo: "Mistress, know yourself! Down on your knees,
and thank heaven fasting for a good man's love!" She sat some moments
silent while he gazed into her face, and her eyes wandered out to the
gloomy and cloud-covered cataract. She felt herself being swept over it.
Whichever way she moved, she had to look down into an abyss, and leap.

"Spare me!" she said at last. "Why should you drive and force me to take
this leap? Are all men so tyrannical with women? You do not quarrel with
a man because he cannot give you his whole life."

"I own it!" said Hazard warmly. "I am tyrannical! I want your whole
life, and even more. I will be put off with nothing else. Don't you see
that I can't retreat? Put yourself in my place! Think how you would act
if you loved me as I love you!"

"Ah, be generous!" begged Esther. "It is not my fault if you and your
profession are one; and of all things on earth, to be half-married must
be the worst torture."

"You are perfectly right," he replied. "My profession and I are one, and
this makes my case harder, for I have to fight two battles, one of love,
and one of duty. Think for a moment what a struggle it is! I love you
passionately. I would like to say to you: 'Take me on your own terms! I
will give you my life, as I will take yours.' But how can I? You are
trembling on the verge of what I think destruction. If I saw you tossing
on the rapids yonder, at the edge of the fall, I could not be more eager
to save you. Yet think what self-control I have had to exercise, for
though I have felt myself, for weeks, fighting a battle of life and
death for a soul much dearer to me than my own, I hav