must forget me. I have been a traitor to you. I have been willing to sacrifice you to satisfy a passion for revenge. I have used you as a mere instrument to carry out my desires. I can atone for my wickedness only in one way: by compelling you to blot me out of your memory."
Barry looked at her in dumb incredulity. He had no conception of what lay in her mind, he could not fathom the meaning of the words she spoke to him. After a moment he said:
"I don't know anything about it, Mary. I don't understand it at all. I only know that if you go away and leave me—like that, it will break my heart."
She reached across the table and took both his hands in hers, as she had done once in her office in the Potter Building, and she looked into his eyes with a look vastly more tender and confident than she had given him on that day.
"Barry," she said, "you believe in me?"
"With all my heart."
"And you believe I am trying to do what is best for both of us?"
"I suppose you are."
"Then, for my sake, do what I ask of you. Don't follow me. Don't try to find me. Don't try to learn anything about me. And if the day or the hour should ever come when I feel that your true happiness can be promoted, even by one little jot, through any word or act of mine, I shall give it to you. There, you must be satisfied with that, Barry; you must."
As in the old days he had been unable to deny her anything she chose to ask, so now, under the spell of her gaze, he had no power to refuse her request. She rose from the table, still holding his hands in hers, and moved with him toward the door. He hardly knew that he was being led.
"And, Barry," she added, "you will do me one more favor? You have been my friend, my brother, my
