hrugged his shoulders.

"You know," he said. "Where should I be but near the woman who is my
very life?"

"But it is madness--it is misery and torture to me."

"Poor wretch that I am," he said bitterly. "Still, I cannot help it."

"But," she cried imploringly, "your life would not be safe if they knew
of your being here."

"Indeed? Well, what of it? My presence is a torture to you. I am a
torture and misery to myself. They would not dare to kill me. I don't
know, though," he said, with a mocking laugh, "by accident, perhaps."

"Dr Chester," cried Marion, appealingly, "does it please you to inflict
this agony upon me?"

"No, no," he said, snatching at her hand. "I would give my life to save
you pain."

"Then go. Leave me and forget me. I am not the true, innocent woman
you think. I am not fit to be your wife."

"What!" he cried, turning ghastly pale, while as she saw his agony her
face grew convulsed and she half raised her hands to him pleadingly, but
let them fall.

He saw the movement and snatched them to his breast.

"It is not true," he cried proudly. "Some false sentiment makes you say
this. I will not believe it of the woman I love."

She did not resist until he tried to take her to his heart. Then she
shrank away.

"No," she said. "You must not touch me like that. Once more, believe
me, all this must end. You must think of me no more--you must go at
once, and we must never meet again."

"You have told me that before," he said, "but I am not a free agent. I
was obliged to come. I have been here these three days past, watching
for an opportunity to speak to you; and when I do you once more cast me
off--you drive me away. Well, I have borne it so long; I can go on
bearing it till you relent, or--I die," he added softly.

She looked at him wildly for a moment, and his hopes rose, for the
relenting seemed close at hand, but she was stern and cold again
directly.

"And your betrothed wife," she said. "What of her?"

He was silent for a few moments, and then he made a deprecating sign
with his hands.

"What do you know of her?" he said.

"Everything," she replied. "How basely and cruelly you have behaved to
her. Is this your honour as a man?"

He heard a deep sigh.

"I have only one thing to say in my defence," he said slowly. "I
believed that I loved her; but then I had not seen you. I was not under
this spell."

"It is no spell," she said firmly. "Go to her, and