which men are ready, as to yield themselves to an eternity of shame and torture.
"So that this woman may be mine!"
She saw that in him; she knew its force, its meaning, she knew that in this instant of his anguish her loveliness was all he felt or sought.
"No matter what you are," he muttered, breathlessly, "no matter what you bring me—I love you, O God! as no man ever, I think, loved before. Have you no pity on that? Be what you will, if—if"
His voice sank, leaving the words unfinished; he felt powerless to plead with her; he felt hopeless to touch, or sway, or implore her; and also, beyond all, he could not even, on the acceptance of her own testimony, dethrone her from his stainless faith, any more than a man can at a word tear out from him as worthless a religion that he has cherished as divine through a long lifetime.
The darkest passions had no terror for her; she had known them over and over again at their worst, and had ruled them and ruled by them. But deepest pity was in her heart for him; she sought to save him, even at all sacrifice to herself, and she saw that it was too late; she knew, as his eyes
