work for her, to suffer for
her, to live for her, yes, and to give himself to her and to keep her
only for himself! Helpless in the sweeping tide of his mighty passion,
he poured forth his words, pleading as for his life. By an inexplicable
psychic law the exhibition of his passion calmed hers. The sight of his
weakness brought her strength. For one fleeting moment she allowed her
mind to rest upon the picture his words made of a home, made rich with
the love of a strong man, and sweet with the music of children's voices,
where she would be safe and sheltered in infinite peace and content. But
only for a moment. Swifter than the play of light there flashed before
her another scene, a crowded amphitheatre of faces, tier upon tier,
eager, rapt, listening, and upon the stage the singer holding, swaying,
compelling them to her will. Barney felt her relaxed muscles tone up
into firmness. The force of her ambition was being transmitted along
those subtle spiritual nerves that knit soul and mind and body into one
complex whole, into the very sinews and muscles of her frame. She had
hold of herself again. She would set herself to gain time.

"Let us wait, Barney," she said, "let us take time."

An intangible something in her tone pulled him to a sharp stop. What a
weak fool he had been and how he had been thinking of himself! He sat
up, straight and strong, his own man again.

"Forgive me, darling," he said, a faint, wan smile flitting across his
face. "I was weak and selfish. I allowed myself to think for a moment
that it might be, but now I know we must say good-bye to-night."

"Good-bye?" The sting of her pain made her irritable. He was so
stubborn. "Surely, Barney, it is unreasonable to ask me to decide at
once to-night."

He rose to his feet and lifted her gently.

"You have decided. You have already chosen your life's path, and it
lies apart from mine. Let me go quietly away." His voice was toneless,
passionless. His fight of two days and two nights had left him
exhausted. His apparent apathy chilled her to the heart. It was a
supreme moment in their lives, and yet she could not fan her soul's
fires into flame. He was tearing up the roots of his love out of her
life, but there was no acute sense of laceration. The inevitable had
come to pass. A silence, dense and throbbing, fell upon them. Outside
the storm was lashing the wet leaves against the window.

"If ever you should want me to come to you, Iola, one word w