who have been mine! Oh, Opal, I've
pictured it all to myself--seen you in his arms--seen his lips on
yours--seen--seen--Can't you imagine what it means to me? It's more than
I can stand, dearest! I may be crazy--I believe I am--but wouldn't it be
better for you and me to--to--cease forever this mockery of life,
and--forget?"

She did not understand him.

"Forget?" she murmured, holding his hand against her cheek, while her
free arm pulled his head down to hers. "Forget?"

He pressed his burning lips to her cool neck, and then, after a moment,
went on, "Yes, beloved, to forget. Think, Opal, think! To forget all
ambition, all restlessness, all disappointment, all longing for what can
never be, all pain, all suffering, all thought of responsibility or
growth or desire, all success or failure--all life, all death--to
forget! to forget! Ah, dearest, one must have loved as we have loved,
and lost as we have lost, to wish to--forget!"

"But there is no such respite for us, Paul. We are not the sort who can
put memory aside. To live will be to remember!"

"Yes, that is it. To live _is_ to remember. But why should we live
longer? We've lived a lifetime in one day, have we not, sweetheart? What
more has life to give us?"

He was calmer now, but it was the calmness of determination.

"Let us die, dear--let us die! Virginius slew his daughter to save her
honor. You are more to me than a thousand daughters. You are my wife,
Opal!--Opal, my very own!"

His eyes softened again, as the storm outside lulled for a moment.

"My darling, don't be afraid! I will save you from him. I will keep you
mine--mine!"

The thunder crashed again, and again the fury leaped to his eyes. He
drew from his pocket a curious foreign dagger, engraved with quaint
designs, and glittering with encrusted gold. Opal recognized it at once.
She had toyed with it the day before, admiring the richness of its
material and workmanship.

"She--has been--mine--my wife," he muttered to himself, wildly,
disconnectedly, yet with startling distinctness. "She shall never, never
lie in his arms!"

He passed his hand across his eyes, as if to brush away a veil.

"Oh, the red! the red! the red! It's blood and fire and hell! It glares
in my eyes! It screams in my ears! Bidding me kill! kill!"

He clasped her to him fiercely.

"To see you, after all this--to see you go from me--and know you were
going to him--_him_--while I went ... Oh, beloved! beloved! God ne