hat I
am unworthy. I can never marry you!"

He saw such wild despair in her face, such sudden, keen anguish, that he
was half startled; and, kneeling by her side, he asked:

"Why, my darling? Tell me why. You, Pauline," he cried--"you not worthy
of me! My darling, what fancy is it--what foolish idea--what freak of
the imagination? You are the noblest, the truest, the dearest woman in
the whole wide world! Pauline, why are you weeping so? My darling, trust
me--tell me."

She had shrunk shuddering from him, and had buried her face in her
hands; deep, bitter sobs came from her lips; there was the very
eloquence of despair in her attitude.

"Pauline," said her lover, "you cannot shake my faith in you; you cannot
make me think you have done wrong; but will you try, sweet, to tell me
what it is?"

He never forgot the despairing face raised to his, the shadow of such
unutterable sorrow in the dark eyes, the quivering of the pale lips, the
tears that rained down her face--it was such a change from the radiant,
happy girl of but a few minutes ago that he could hardly believe it was
the same Pauline.

He bent over her as though he would fain kiss away the fast falling
tears; but she shrank from him.

"Do not touch me, Vane!" she cried; "I am not worthy. I had forgotten;
in the happiness of loving you, and knowing that I was beloved, I had
forgotten it--my own deed has dishonored me! We must part, for I am not
worthy of you."

He took both her hands in his own, and his influence over her was so
great that even in that hour she obeyed him implicitly, as though she
had been a child.

"You must let me judge, Pauline," he said, gently. "You are mine by
right of the promise you gave me a few minutes since--the promise to be
my wife; that makes you mine--no one can release you from it. By virtue
of that promise you must trust me, and tell me what you have done."

He saw that there was a desperate struggle in her mind--a struggle
between the pride that bade her rise in rebellion and leave him with her
secret untold, and the love that, bringing with it sweet and gracious
humility, prompted her to confess all to him. He watched her with loving
eyes; as that struggle ended, so would her life take its shape.

He saw the dark eyes grow soft with good thoughts; he saw the silent,
proud defiance die out of the beautiful face; the lips quivered, sweet
humility seemed to fall over her and infold her.

"I have done a cruel deed, Va