nized, her eyes following him with a dumb yearning. He turned to her at last.
"I don't blame you," he repeated. "I shall never think one bitter thought of you; you will always be to me the sweetest, truest, finest of women. But for him," he added fiercely; "why did he not know his own mind sooner? Why did he keep you on a string, and wait to declare himself till your wedding day was fixed? I think he has behaved damnably."
"Frank, Frank, don't say that!" She came to him and again touched him pleadingly. "You don't know all he has suffered, you don't know."
"I know that he has treated you ill. And why? When are you to be married?" he added coldly.
"We shall not be married. Oh, Frank, I don't know, I can't tell you. He is not to blame. It was out of love for me that he held back. It is his secret, his and mine."
"If you are not going to marry him, I will wait. Ten years hence you will find me the same."
"It would be of no use. My mind is clear. Last night, in my heart, I gave myself to him for ever and ever; in death or in life, in honour or in dishonour, whether he lives or dies, or marries me or leaves me, I am his; and I can never be any other man's. I never had much religion, Frank, but it seems to me that I have learned at least the religion of love. That's why I never could bear the idea of marrying, why I hated anybody to come near me in that way—yes, even you, Frank, truly as I cared for you. I was meant for him, and for him only."
There was a look of exaltation on Elsie's face which Frank had never seen there before. It convinced him more than her words that she meant what she said.
"Frank," she went on, "if you will forgive me—and I know you will—be my brother, and let me be your sister. Let us always love each other in that way. Some day, perhaps, you may be" She stopped herself. It seemed desecration to hint at the secret of the new-made widow. But at that moment an intuition came to her that Frank would
