ask in undoubting confidence that
which it was hers to give or to withhold. She felt his breath on her
cheek, the warm glow of his lips nearer and nearer. She could not put
them away; her heart cried out against it. Her will to resist, to act as
her conscience dictated, was weakening. Only to be at rest, as she was
resting now, at peace, no doubts, no fears; she longed for what in
strength of mind and purity of heart he was offering her.

His clasp grew closer. Why should she not accept? Her senses were
reeling in an ecstasy of surrender that gives all and gains all in the
giving. As in a delicious yet terrifying dream, she shrank closer to the
protecting arms that would shield her forever.

"Tell me, Helen, that you love me, not as I love you, that is too much
to ask, but tell me that you love me."

Her lips trembled in voiceless reply. How she longed to speak the words
he desired her to utter. Why could she not? Then her eyes opened wide.
Here was a clean heart and a pure life at her feet, strong, throbbing
words pleading with her to accept the offering. What had she to give in
return? What was she about to give? A stained heart; how deeply stained
she did not, could not know, but stained, in exchange for a pure white
soul.

She tore herself from his arms and stood before him, her hands
outstretched against him. Her great black eyes were wide, and deep, and
unfathomable. Only from their depths, a glow of longing love shone
forth; of longing, sorrowing love, of sorrow for herself and of love for
the man before her; yet love controlled by a will as strong as the
strength of right could make it.

There was an answering light in the eyes that met her own. In them was
pain and pleading, but no doubt. His hands reached out to hers that had
put him away, but they dropped before they touched.

"Helen, your eyes have answered me." There was a deep throb of
exultation in his voice. "But let me hear you speak."

She stood with pale face and laboring breath. Her voice shook with the
intensity of her emotion.

"I love you, Ralph. More than I can tell you in a lifetime, I love you."
She spoke in obedience to a power beyond her will to control.

Winston sprang toward her, but her hand rested on his breast. She could
feel the strong, even throb of his heart and this strengthened her will
to resist.

"Listen, Ralph!" Her voice was intense but low; every word pierced like
pencils of light in deep waters. "I have been cruel,