lips, sensitive as any woman's, trembled yet broke into a rapturous
smile as he cried, with fervent brevity, "I would die for you!"

A look of triumph swept across her face, for with this boy, as
chivalrous as ardent, she knew that words were not mere breath. Still,
with her stern purpose uppermost, she changed the bitter smile into one
half-timid, half-tender, as she bent still nearer, "Manuel, in a week I
leave the island. Shall I go alone?"

"No, Pauline."

He understood her now. She saw it in the sudden paleness that fell on
him, heard it in the rapid beating of his heart, felt it in the strong
grasp that fastened on her hand, and knew that the first step was won. A
regretful pang smote her, but the dark mood which had taken possession
of her stifled the generous warnings of her better self and drove her
on.

"Listen, Manuel. A strange spirit rules me tonight, but I will have no
reserves from you, all shall be told; then, if you will come, be it so;
if not, I shall go my way as solitary as I came. If you think that this
loss has broken my heart, undeceive yourself, for such as I live years
in an hour and show no sign. I have shed no tears, uttered no cry, asked
no comfort; yet, since I read that letter, I have suffered more than
many suffer in a lifetime. I am not one to lament long over any hopeless
sorrow. A single paroxysm, sharp and short, and it is over. Contempt has
killed my love, I have buried it, and no power can make it live again,
except as a pale ghost that will not rest till Gilbert shall pass
through an hour as bitter as the last."