tter to me.'

'That must have been a delightful surprise for you,' said Vincent;
'you kept your head though--you did not let it interfere with your
arrangements. You have married her--_you_--of all the men in the
world! Nothing can ever undo that now--nothing!'

'I have married her,' said Mark; 'God forgive me for it! But at least
she cares for no one else, Holroyd. She loves me--whatever I am!'

'You need not tell me that,' interrupted Vincent; 'I know it. I have
seen it for myself--you have been clever even in that!'

'What do you mean?' asked Mark.

'Do you know what that book of mine was to me?' continued Vincent,
without troubling to answer; 'I put all that was best of myself into
it, I thought it might plead for me some day, perhaps, to a heart I
hoped to touch; and I come back to find that you have won the heart,
and not even left me my book!'

'As for the book,' said Mark, 'that will be yours again now.'

'I meant to make it so when I came here,' Vincent answered. 'I meant
to force you to own my rights, whatever the acknowledgment cost
you.... But I know now that I must give that up. I abandon all claim
to the book; you have chosen to take it--you can keep it!'

The revulsion of feeling caused by so unexpected an announcement
almost turned Mark's head for the moment; he caught Vincent by the arm
in his excitement. 'What,' he cried, 'is this a trick--are you in
earnest--you will spare me after all? You must not, Vincent, I can't
have it--I don't deserve it!'

Vincent drew back coldly: 'Did I say you deserved it?' he asked, with
a contempt that stung Mark.

'Then I won't accept it, do you hear?' he persisted; 'you shall not
make this sacrifice for me!'

Holroyd laughed grimly enough: 'For you!' he repeated; 'you don't
suppose I should tamely give up everything for _you_, do you?'

'Then,' faltered Mark, 'why--why----?'

'Why am I going to let you alone? Do you remember what I told you on
that platform at Plymouth?--_that_ is why. If I had only known then, I
would have fought my hardest to expose you, if it was necessary to
save her in that way--for her sake, not mine. I don't suppose there
ever was much hope for me. As it is, you have been clever enough to
choose the one shield through which I can't strike you--if I ever
thought more of that wretched book than of her happiness, it was only
for a moment--she knows nothing as yet, and she must never know!'

'She will know it some day,' said Mark, he