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lessly to the old! True, she had broken with Madison, irrevocably, forever, she supposed, it could not be other than that, for the ugly bond between them was severed—but the game still went on! In repentance, on her bended knees, sobbing as a tired and worn-out child, she could ask for forgiveness; but the double life, the duplicity, by reason of the very nature in which they had fashioned this iniquitous monster, still went on, and like some hideous octopus reached out its waving, feeling tentacles to encircle her—the Patriarch there; the world-wide publicity, those poor creatures upon whose misery and whose suffering, upon whose frantic, frenzied snatching out at hope they had preyed and fed and gorged themselves; the life itself that she had taken up, in its minutiæ, in its care of this great-souled, great-hearted man so dear to her now, the life itself because it was what it was, changed though she herself might be, though her soul cried out against it in its new-found purity—all this still held her fast! The end—she could not see the end. What would Madison do—and there was Thornton. Thornton! She caught her breath a little. Yes; she had promised Thornton she would see him to-night—she knew well enough why he wanted to see her—last night had told her that—he loved her. Her face softened. Last night—it seemed a thousand years ago, and it seemed but as an instant passed—last night—she had learned what love was, and—