body says. I must do my
duty by Rube."

"Very well. Do your duty, Mell, but do it now. That is all I ask.
Manifestly it is not your duty to marry him. With every throb of your
heart pulsating for me, you will not be worth one dollar to Rube in
the capacity of a wife. He would tell you so, if he knew. Can't you
see that, Mell?"

She could see it distinctly. Jerome's words burned with the brilliancy
of magnesium, throwing out this aspect of the subject in glaring
light. Rube stood again before her, as he had stood on the morning of
that day upon which she had undertaken to fulfil her promise to Jerome
and failed so ignominiously--stood, and was saying: "_I_ would be the
most defrauded man of the two," and "where would be the sanctity of
such a marriage?"

Not one dollar would she be worth to him--_if he knew!_ He would know
some time; everything under the sun gets known somehow, the only
question is--when?

Seeing the impression made, Jerome spoke again, in words low,
impassioned:

"Save yourself, for the love of God! Save yourself and Rube from such
a fate!"

Mell glanced about her in terror and confusion, turning red and pale.
Gladly would she save herself; but how can a respectable member of
good society accept salvation at such a price--the price of being
talked about?

"It is too late," she told her companion, in tones as sorrowful as the
wail of a wandering bard in a strange land; "too late! Why, man, the
bridal robes are ready, the bridal cake is baked, the bridal guests
are bidden; and would you have me, at this last minute, turn Rube
into a laughing-stock, a by-word on every idle lip, a man to be
pointed out upon the streets, a man to be jeered at in the crowd?
Would you have me do that?"

"Yes. That is not a happy lot, but it soon passes, and is better than
being duped for life and wretched for life."

Mell averted her face. She seemed striving for words:

"I don't see why Rube should be so unhappy as you seem determined to
make him. Even granting that he knew that I do not feel romantically
towards him, as I have felt towards you--"

"Have felt?" interposed her listener.

She waived his question aside and proceeded:

"Still there is a love born of habit and propinquity, and that will
come to my rescue. Rube is a splendid fellow! I respect him. I honor
his character, and I could be happy with him if--"

"Well," said Jerome, huskily, "go on."

"_If it were not for you._"

"Ha!" exclaimed h