to say a word. Did he know
the secret of her heart; that secret which once and but once had
involuntarily broken from out her lips? Had Caroline told him? Had
she been so false to friendship--as false to friendship as she had
been to love?

"Adela! Adela! I would that we had met earlier in our lives. Yes, you
and I." These last words he added after she had quickly rescued her
hand from his grasp. Very quickly she withdrew it now. As quickly she
lifted up her face, all covered as it was with tears, and endured the
full weight of his gaze. What! was it possible that he knew how she
had loved, and thought that her love had been for him!

"Yes, you and I," he continued. "Even though your eyes flash upon
me so sternly. You mean to say that had it been ever so early, that
prize would have been impossible for me. Speak out, Adela. That is
what you mean?"

"Yes; it would have been impossible; impossible every way;
impossible, that is, on both sides."

"Then you have not that empty heart, Adela? What else should make it
impossible?"

"Mr. Bertram, when I came here, I had no wish, no intention to talk
about myself."

"Why not of yourself as well as of me? I say again, I would we had
both met earlier. It might have been that I should have been saved
from this shipwreck. I will speak openly to you, Adela. Why not?"
he added, seeing that she shrunk from him, and seemed as though she
would move on quickly--away from his words.

"Mr. Bertram, do not say that which it will be useless for you to
have said."

"It shall not be useless. You are my friend, and friends should
understand each other. You know how I have loved Caroline. You
believe that I have loved her, do you not?"

"Oh, yes; I do believe that."

"Well, you may; that at any rate is true. I have loved her. She will
now be that man's property, and I must love her no longer."

"No; not with that sort of love."

"That sort! Are there two sorts on which a man may run the changes,
as he may from one room to another? I must wipe her out of my
mind--out of my heart--or burn her out. I would not wish to love
anything that he possesses."

"No!" said she, "not his wife."

"Wife! she will never be his wife. She will never be bone of his
bone, and flesh of his flesh, as I would have made her. It will be
but a partnership between them, to be dissolved when they have made
the most of their world's trading."

"If you love her, Mr. Bertram, do not be so bitter in speaki