It had all come to this, then--his piety, his reformation, his prayers,
his thanksgiving, his faith. His heart within him gave a sneering laugh.
He was terribly to blame, of course--he was a reprobate; but surely God
was to blame too!




CHAPTER VII.


Ann Markham's thoughts of Bart that day were chiefly wondering thoughts.
She tried to think scornfully of his refusal to help her; theoretically
she derided the religion that produced the refusal, but in the bottom of
her heart she looked at it with a wonder that was akin to admiration.
Then there was a question whether he would remain fixed in his
resolution. If this man did not love her then Ann's confidence failed
her in respect to her judgment of what was or was not; for though she
had regarded him always as a person of not much strength or importance,
not independent enough to be anything more than the creature of the
woman whom he desired to marry, yet, curiously enough, she had believed
that his love for her had a strength that would die hard. She did not
stop to ask herself how it could be that a weak man could love her
strongly. Love, in any constant and permanent sense of the word, was an
almost unknown quality among her companions, and yet she had attributed
it to Bart. Well! his refusal of last night proved that she had been
mistaken--that was all. But possibly the leaven of her proposal would
work, and he would repent and come back to her. The fact that he had
evidently not betrayed her to the detective gave her hope of this. Her