"Why not the other?"

I laughed at her a little. "I shall try not to give you spurious
metal,--even granted that our bargain is provisional. Now,
mademoiselle, may I take you to the lodge I have had made? In two
hours we are to be married."

She followed at my side, and I took her to the lodge, and pointed her
within. She glanced at what I had done, and I saw her bite her lip.
She turned to me without a smile.

"It all makes it harder," she said indefinitely. "Harder to think of
the wrong that I am doing you and the other woman."

I cannot abide misapprehension. We were alone. "Wait!" I begged.
"Mademoiselle, you cannot probe a man's thought. Often he cannot probe
his own. But I am not unhappy. A man marries many brides, and
Ambition, if the truth be told, is, perhaps, the dearest. I shall
embrace her. You should be able to understand."

"But the woman. She must have seen that you loved her. She may have
cared more in return than you knew."

I looked at her. "The lady of the miniature," I said slowly, "had many
lovers. If she showed me special favor, I assure you I did not know.
But even if her fancy did stray toward me,--which I think it did
not,--why, she was---- She was a winsome, softly smiling, gentle lady,
mademoiselle. She was not fire, and spirit, and courage, and loyalty,
and temper, and tenderness. No, she was not in the least like that. I