ake you strong to fight and
conquer, and--endure!"

"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can
I face the world without you?"

"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me
always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me,
as men do weary of their wives!"

"Opal! Never!"

"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose."

"But it is not _my_ nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not
capricious. Why should you think so?"

"But it's human nature, Paul; there is no denying that. To think, Paul,
that we could grow to clasp hands like this--that we could
kiss--actually kiss, Paul, _calmly_, as women kiss each other--that we
could ever rest in each other's arms and grow weary!"

But Paul would not listen. He always would have loved her, always! He
loved her, anyway, and always would, were she a thousand times the
Countess de Roannes, but it was too late! too late!

"Always remember, Paul, wherever you are and whatever you do," went on
Opal, "that I love you. I know it now, and I know how much! Let the
memory of it be an inspiration to you when your spirits flag, and a
consolation when skies are gray, and--Paul--oh, I love you--love
you--that's all! Kiss me--just once--our last goodbye! There can be no
harm in that, when it's for the last time!"

And Paul, with a heart-breaking sob, clasped her in his arms and pressed
his lips to hers as one kisses the face of his beloved dead. He wondered
vaguely why he felt no passion--wondered at the utter languor of the
senses that did not wake even as he pressed his lips to hers. It was not
a woman's body in his arms--but as the sexless form of one long dead and
lost to him forever. It was not passion now--it was love, stripped of
all sensuality, purged of all desire save the longing to endure.

It was the hour of love's supremest triumph--renunciation!

CHAPTER XVII

Back in England again--England in the fall of the year--England in the
autumn of life, for Sir Charles Verdayne was nearing his end. The Boy
spent a few weeks at Verdayne Place, and then left to pay his first
visit to his fiancee. Paul Verdayne was prevented by his father's ill
health from accompanying him to Austria, as had been the original plan.

Opal had asked of the Boy during that last strange hour they had spent
together that he should make this visit, and bow obediently to the call
of dest