bring happiness to either of us, or having such a beginning could end in aught but ruin to all?"
"I love you, Gabrielle; that will suffice for all," he declared passionately.
"Spare me that, I beg of you," she cried quickly and very earnestly. "When you spoke of this to me before, I answered you out of my indignation. I am cooler now; but can you not think how such a declaration sounds to me? It is not one jot less terrible because I school myself to listen without temper. Can you not feel what treachery it is to my dearest friend, your wife—surely the purest wife ever given to a man?"
"She is willing for our marriage to be dissolved."
"Does that make my treachery to her less ignoble? If the thing stood on any other ground than where you put it by these words, it would still be wrong—a cruel, cowardly wrong to her; but to plead for it no more than mere passion, is to clothe it with its vilest dress."
"There are other reasons—many," he said sullenly. "You wish to wield influence in the rule of the people; I give you a chance. 'Twas but yesterday I put the matter so to you."
"The baseness of the act is not lessened by wrapping it about with specious pleas. And I will be frank with you; for frankness in such a crisis is best. I could never feel to you as a wife should feel toward her husband. The shame of this wrong to my friend would ever be a canker to blight all other thoughts, and make my life—our lives—one lengthened monotone of remorse and pain."
"I would leave that issue to time and my love. You did not think thus until within the last few hours."
"I will deal with you frankly, as I said. I understand you; and in some part you are right. I love this man who is in your power. I believe him good and true and noble; I am not ashamed of my love. Love
