e, how could you be so cruel to
me when I loved you so--how could you?"

Tears that she had repressed for years rained down her face; all the
bitter grief that she had held in as with an iron hand, all the pride so
long triumphant, all the pain and anguish, and the desolation, that had
been in check, rushed over her, as the tempestuous waves of the sea rush
over the rocks and sands.

"How could you, Lance?" she cried, wringing her hands; "how could you?
You were cruel and treacherous to me, though I trusted you so. Ah, my
love, my love, how could you?"

The beautiful head fell forward in the very abandonment of sorrow; great
sobs shook the beautiful figure.

"Oh, Lance, I loved you so, I believed in you as I believed in Heaven. I
loved you and trusted you, you forsook me and deceived me. Oh, my love,
my love!"

His face grew white and his strong figure trembled under the pain of her
reproaches.

"Leone," he said, gently, "every word of yours is a sword in my heart.
Why did I do it? Ah me, why? I have no word of excuse for myself, not
one. I might say that I was under woman's influence, but that would not
excuse me. I take the whole blame, the whole sin upon myself. Can you
ever forgive me?"

She raised her face to his, all wet with tears.

"I ought not to forgive you," she said; "I ought to drive you from my
presence; I ought to curse you with my ruined life, but I cannot. Oh,
Lance, if I only lay under the waters of the mill-stream, dead."

The passion of her grief was terrible to see. He forgot all and
everything but her--the wife at home, the plighted vows, honor, truth,
loyalty--all and everything except the girl whom he had loved with a mad
love, and her grief. He drew her to his breast, he kissed away the
shining tears; he kissed the trembling lips.

"Leone, you will drive me mad. Great God, what have I done? I realize it
now; I had better have died," and then the strength of the strong man
gave way, and he wept like a child. "It is no excuse," he said, "to
plead that I was young, foolish, and easily led. Oh, Leone, my only
love, what was I doing when I gave you up--when I left you?"

The violence of his grief somewhat restrained hers; she was half
frightened at it.

"We are making matters worse," she said. "Lance, we must not forget that
you are married now in earnest."

"Will you ever forgive me?" he asked. "I have no excuse to offer. I own
that my sin was the most disloyal and the most traitoro