e cries, her voice
shaken by fear and dread. "You see me as I am--weak, defenceless--loving
you to my shame--my destruction. I am in your power body and soul--you
have got my will as well--it is yours--all yours. Think for a moment,
Carol, before you keep these stolen goods--what they cost--you and me.
Pity me in this hopeless moment of surrender--make it less hard to part.
Are we to lose everything? Think of your soul--and my soul. I believe
that we both have them now in the palms of our hands--to cast into
Hell--to lift up to Heaven! You should be the stronger. Remember what
it is to be a man!"

"What is your ideal of poor mankind?" he asks hoarsely.

"To give--not take," replies Eleanor, in the words of Charles Kingsley,
which rise suddenly as an inspiration to her tortured mind. "To
serve--not rule. To nourish--not devour. To help--not crush. If need,
to die--not live!"

"Then I will rise to your standard," he said boldly. "Eleanor, I will
kill myself."

"How?" she asks.

"I care not; but to-day--this same hour--you will have driven me to my
death!"

"Oh, Carol, you are cruel!" she sighs.

Then the words well into her brain, with fierce, upbraiding, horrible
reality: "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow." She sees the faded
towzled hair of the woman in the train, the dusty crape of her bonnet,
the red upon her lips.

A cry escapes her, and sinking on the green bank by the roadside, Eleanor
buries her face in the grass and sobs in uncontrollable anguish.

Carol cannot bear to watch her misery. He stoops down and gathers the
little figure in his arms, straining it to his heart. He kisses dry the
liquid eyes, and soothes the low deep sobs.

"I have decided," he says.

"And your choice, our fate, the end?" she asks breathlessly.

"To take," he replies, holding her fast, "not give back that which is
mine, now and for ever. To rule (if that is the harsh term you give my
love), to devour, to crush, to live, Eleanor, not die."

The words sound like a shout of victory on the still air. They kindle a
mad delight in the woman's stricken heart.

"We will leave this miserable country, where you are a captive to a man
who cannot hold your love, yet calls himself 'husband.' We will go away,
no matter where, since we shall be together. We have only our two selves
to live for now. The world was created for us alone, we need remember
nothing else, an Eden to love in and be happy. Oh! my darl