taken up with--some one
else. I thought I might find some one else to supplant you, but never
for one moment have I failed to acknowledge your superiority--"

"Oh, no; you have not. How can you dare to tell me that!" she smiled,
recovering her self-possession.

"I have, Alice, ever since you were a girl--even when you
were--were--when you were beyond me--I loved you more than ever--I--"
Her face changed, and she recoiled from him.

"Don't," she said.

"I will." He seized her hand and held it tightly. "I loved you even then
better than I ever loved in my life--better than your--than any one else
did." Her face whitened.

"Stop!" she cried. "Not another word. I will not listen. Release my
hand." She pulled it from him forcibly, and, as he began again, she,
with a gesture, stopped him.

"No--no--no! It is impossible. I will not listen."

His face changed as he looked into her face. She rose from her seat and
turned away from him, taking two or three steps up and down, trying to
regain control of herself.

He waited and watched her, an angry light coming into his eyes. He
misread her feelings. He had made love to married women before and had
not been repulsed.

She turned to him now, and with level eyes looked into his.

"You never loved me in your life. I have had men in love with me, and
know when they are; but you are not one of them."

"I was--I am--" he began, stepping closer to her; but she stopped him.

"Not for a minute," she went on, without heeding him. "And you had no
right to say that to me."

"What?" he demanded.

"What you said. My husband loved me with all the strength of a noble,
high-minded man, and notwithstanding the difference in our ages, treated
me as his equal; and I loved him--yes, loved him devotedly," she said,
as she saw a spark come into his eyes.

"You love some one else now," he said coolly.

It might have been anger that brought the rush of color to her face. She
turned and looked him full in the face.

"If I do, it is not you."

The arrow went home. His eyes snapped with anger.

"You took such lofty ground just now that I should hardly have supposed
the attentions of Mr. Wentworth meant anything so serious. I thought
that was mere friendship."

This time there was no doubt that the color meant anger.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, looking him once more full in the
eyes.

"I refer to what the world says, especially as he himself is such a
model of all the Chr