broken forever, and all this misery will end. It was I and you--you and
I. But that is over now. I do not come between you. It is useless to
think of that. I do not offer you my love; you refused it long ago. But
I can not see you my brother's wife. That would be too much for me to
endure. I will not endure it. Have pity upon me. If I have no claim to
your love, have I no right to your pity? What have I suffered for your
love? A life's misery. What have I sacrificed to it? My name--my
place--my inheritance."

Greta lifted her eyes with a look of inquiry.

"What? Has he not even yet told you all?" said Hugh. "No matter. What
has he done to earn your love that I have not done? What has he
suffered? What has he sacrificed?"

"If this is love, it is selfish love," said Greta, in a broken voice.

"Selfish?--be it so. All love is selfish."

"Leave me--leave me!"

Hugh Ritson paused; the warmth of his manner increased. "I will leave
you," he said, "and never seek you again; I will go from you forever,
and crush down the sorrow that must be with me to the end, if you will
promise me one thing."

"What is it?" said Greta, her eyes on the ground.

"It is much," said Hugh, "but it is not all. If the price is great,
think of the misery that it buys--and buries. You would sacrifice
something for me, would you not?"

His voice swelled as he spoke, and his pale face softened, and the light
of hopeless love was in his great eyes.

"Say that you would--for me--me!" He held out his arms toward her as if
soul and body together yearned for one word, one look of love.

Greta stood there, silent and immovable. "What is it?" she repeated.

"Let me think that you would do something for my sake--mine," he
pleaded. "Let me carry away that solace. Think what I have suffered for
you, and all in vain. Think that perhaps it was no fault of mine that
you could not love me; that another woman might have found me worthy to
be loved who had not been unworthy of love from me."

"What is it?" repeated Greta, coldly, but her drooping lashes were wet
with tears.

"Think that I am of a vain, proud, stubborn spirit; that in all this
world there is neither man nor woman, friend nor enemy, to whom I have
sued for grace or favor; that since I was a child I have never even
knelt in prayer in God's house that man might see or God might hear.
Then think that I am at your feet, a miserable man."

"What is it?" said Greta, again.

Hugh Ritson paus