It is all--wiped away by
fire. Those walls--"

"But not my sins, not my selfishness, not the wrong I have done!
Even all that has happened to me, or may happen to me, wouldn't be
punishment enough for that. Now you asked me if you were not my
friend? Of course you are not. How could you be?"

"It would be easier now than ever before," she said. But he shook
his head from side to side, slowly, dully, monotonously.

"No, no," he said, "it would not be right,--I would not allow it."

"I remember now," she said slowly, "how you hesitated. It must
have been agony for you. I knew there was something, all the time.
Of course, I could not tell what. But it must have been agony for
you to offer to tell me--of this."

"Oh, I might have told you then. Perhaps it would have been braver
if I had. I tried it a dozen times, but couldn't. I don't pretend
to say whether it was selfishness or cowardice, or just kindness
to--her. If I ever loved her, it was so faint and far away--but it
isn't right to say that, now."

"No. Do not. Do not."

"I don't know. There are a heap of things I don't know. But I
knew I loved you. It was for ever. That was what was meant to be.
It seemed to me I owed debts on every hand--to the world--to you: I
tried--tried to pay--to pay you fair, ache for ache, if I could,
for the hurts I'd given you. And you wouldn't let me. You were
wonderful. Before the throne of God--here--now, I'll say it: I
love you! But now it's over."

"It is easier now," she said again. "You must not give way. You
are strong. You must not be beaten. You must keep your courage."

"Give me a moment," he said. "Give me a chance to get on my feet
again. I want to be game as I can."

"You have courage--the large courage," she answered quietly.
"Haven't you been showing it, by your very silence? You will be
brave. You are just beginning. You have changed many things in
your life of late. You were silent. You did not boast to me.
Sometimes things seem to be changed for us, without our
arrangement."

"Isn't it true?" he exclaimed, turning to her quickly; "isn't it
the truth? Why, look at me. I met you a year ago. Here I sit
now. Two different men, eh? No chance, either time. No chance."

"Maybe two different women," said she.

"No, we are not different," he went on suddenly. "We are something
just the same,--for my part, at least, I have never changed very
much in some ways."

"You have s