wretchedness that women cause."

"And the only unalloyed happiness," said Crayford, "the happiness
that women bring."

"That may be your experience of them," Wardour answered; "mine is
different. All the devotion, the patience, the humility, the
worship that there is in man, I laid at the feet of a woman. She
accepted the offering as women do--accepted it, easily,
gracefully, unfeelingly--accepted it as a matter of course. I
left England to win a high place in my profession, before I dared
to win _her_. I braved danger, and faced death. I staked my life
in the fever swamps of Africa, to gain the promotion that I only
desired for her sake--and gained it. I came back to give her all,
and to ask nothing in return, but to rest my weary heart in the
sunshine of her smile. And her own lips--the lips I had kissed at
parting--told me that another man had robbed me of her. I spoke
but few words when I heard that confession, and left her forever.
'The time may come,' I told her, 'when I shall forgive _you_. But
the man who has robbed me of you shall rue the day when you and
he first met.' Don't ask me who he was! I have yet to discover
him. The treachery had been kept secret; nobody could tell me
where to find him; nobody could tell me who he was. What did it
matter? When I had lived out the first agony, I could rely on
myself--I could be patient, and bide my time."

"Your time? What time?"

"The time when I and that man shall meet face to face. I knew it
then; I know it now--it was written on my heart then, it is