beside her.

"Listen, Honora," he said, and tried to speak calmly, though his voice
was still vibrant; "let us look the situation m the face. As I told you
once, the days of useless martyrdom are past. The world is more
enlightened today, and recognizes an individual right to happiness."

"To happiness," she repeated after him, like a child. He forgot his words
as he looked into her eyes: they were lighted as with all the candles of
heaven in his honour.

"Listen," he said hoarsely, and his fingers tightened on her arm.

The current running through her from him made her his instrument. Did he
say the sky was black, she would have exclaimed at the discovery.

"Yes--I am listening."

"Honora!"

"Hugh," she answered, and blinded him. He was possessed by the tragic
fear that she was acting a dream; presently she would awake--and shatter
the universe. His dominance was too complete.

"I love you--I respect you. You are making it very hard for me. Please
try to understand what I am saying," he cried almost fiercely. "This
thing, this miracle, has happened in spite of us. Henceforth you belong
to me--do you hear?"

Once more the candles flared up.