is accents; and you--oh, if in the long years to come you can forget
what I have made Eleanore suffer by my selfish fears; if with the shadow
of her wrong before you, you can by the grace of some sweet hope think
a little less hardly of me, do. As for this man--torture could not be
worse to me than this standing with him in the same room--let him
come forward and declare if I by look or word have given him reason to
believe I understood his passion, much less returned it."

"Why ask!" he gasped. "Don't you see it was your indifference which
drove me mad? To stand before you, to agonize after you, to follow you
with thoughts in every move you made; to know my soul was welded to
yours with bands of steel no fire could melt, no force destroy, no
strain dissever; to sleep under the same roof, sit at the same table,
and yet meet not so much as one look to show me you understood! It was
that which made my life a hell. I was determined you should understand.
If I had to leap into a pit of flame, you should know what I was, and
what my passion for you was. And you do. You comprehend it all now.
Shrink as you will from my presence, cower as you may to the weak man
you call husband, you can never forget the love of Trueman Harwell;
never forget that love, love, love, was the force which led me down into
your uncle's room that night, and lent me will to pull the trigger which
poured all the wealth you hold this day into your lap. Yes," he went on,
towering in his preternatural despair till even the noble form of Henry
Clavering looked dwarfed beside him, "every dollar that chinks from
your purse shall talk of me. Every gew-gaw which flashes on that haughty
head, too haughty to bend to me, shall shriek my name into your ears.
Fashion, pomp, luxury,--you will have them all; but till gold loses its
glitter and ease its attraction you will never forget the hand that gave
them to you!"

With a look whose evil triumph I cannot describe, he put his hand into
the arm of the waiting detective, and in another moment would have been
led from the room; when Mary, crushing down the swell of emotions that
was seething in her breast, lifted her head and said:

"No, Trueman Harwell; I cannot give you even that thought for your
comfort. Wealth so laden would bring nothing but torture. I cannot
accept the torture, so must release the wealth. From this day, Mary
Clavering owns nothing but what comes to her from the husband she has so
long and so b