or him, if he had nothing more than that, he would be satisfied, and
the world might think what it would. If she would not go with him--well,
then he would kill Le Maitre. His mind was made up; there was nothing
left of hesitation or scruple. He looked at the broad sea and the
sunlight and the sky, and made his vow with clenched teeth. He laughed
at the words which had scared him the night before--the names of the
crimes which were his alternatives; they were made righteousness to him
by the sight of fear in a woman's face.

It is one form of weakness to lay too much stress upon the emotion of
another, just as it is weak to take too much heed of our own emotions;
but Caius thought the sympathy that carried all before it was strength.

After awhile, waiting became intolerable. Leading both horses, he walked
cautiously back to a point where he could see Josephine. She was sitting
upon the sandy bank near where he had left her. He took his cap in his
hand, and went with the horses, standing reverently before her. He felt
sure now that she had been saying her prayers, because, although her
face was still very pallid, she was composed and able to speak. He
wished now she had not prayed.

"You are very kind to me." Her voice trembled, but she gave him a little
smile. "I cannot pretend that I am not distressed; it would be false,
and falsehood is not right. You are very, very kind, and I thank
you----"

She broke off, as if she had been going to say something more but had
wearily forgotten what it was.

"Oh, do not say that!" His voice was like one pleading to be spared a
blow. "I love you. There is no greater joy to me on earth than to serve
you."

"Hush," she said; "don't say that. I am very sorry for you, but sorrow
must come to us all in some way."

"Don't, don't!" he cried--"don't tell me that suffering is good. It is
not good; it is an evil. It is right to shun evil; it is the only
right. The other is a horrid fable--a lie concocted by priests and
devils!"

"Suppose you loved someone--me, for instance--and I was dead, and you
knew quite certainly that by dying you would come to where I was--would
you call death good or evil?"

He demurred. He did not want to admit belief in anything connected with
the doctrine of submission.

"I said 'suppose,'" she said.

"I would go through far more than death to come near you."

"Suffering is just a gate, like death. We go through it to get the
things we really want mo