marry him. What are we to do?"

Through the open windows came the sounds of laughter and loud talk, and
someone was playing snatches of a waltz on a violin.

Brigit, feeling that things outside her own control had hastened an
inevitable crisis, stood waiting with the immobility of one consciously
in the hands of Fate.

At last Joyselle came to her and took her in his arms. "Tell me that you
love me," he whispered, "and then--I can bear anything."

His unexpected resignation came, as so often is the case, rather as a
shock to her. It was true that she had of late, during the reign of
peace that had followed the last quarrel, been unusually happy, and that
the thought of marrying Theo had become more bearable than she would
have believed possible; the future had taken on an aspect of happy
family life with Joyselle and Felicite, in which Theo's part had been
pleasantly subordinate; more or less, although her mind had not
formulated it, that of a brother.

Yet now Joyselle's resigned attitude did not please her.

"Then--you don't mind my marrying--another man?" she retorted quickly,
instinctively using words that would hurt him.

He wiped his forehead, which was covered with small drops of
perspiration.

"Don't mind! But, _ma cherie_, you must not torture me. The situation as
it now is, is absolutely impossible. You don't understand. I love my
son, God knows! Yet I am not made of stone, and before the love paternal
He created the love of man for woman. I believe, as He hears me, that
you were meant for me; that you are my woman, and I your man; that you
were meant for me and I for you. But--I was born too soon or you too
late. I cannot, must not, have you, without outraging certain laws which
must be respected. The only thing, then, is to bow to these laws. I
belong to a generation older than yours, and before I knew that you
existed my boy had chosen--and won--you. So you must be his. We have
dreamed, my Brigit, through the last few months, and now we must awaken.
You must marry Theo, and he will take you away for a few months, and
when you come back as his--wife, I shall--I _will_ have learned to love
you in the only way I can love you without shame--as my daughter."

It is curious, but strictly according to the laws of the feminine
logic, that as he made this speech, haltingly, painfully, but with
resolution in every word of it, Brigit's mind should slowly change to a
feeling of resentment.

She herself had