enough. That"--

"That is not enough," he interrupted, with an emphasis, which seemed
stern. "Helen, I shall not talk love to you. I am another woman's
husband. I made a ghastly mistake when I married Ninitta, but it is
done. She loves me; she is happy, and I love"--his voice faltered into
a wonderful softness more eloquent than words,--"I love Nino."

She would not let him go on. She sprang up and ran to him, taking his
hands in hers with a touch that made his blood rush tingling through
his veins.

"Yes," she cried, "you love Nino! Think of that! Think most of all that
whatever you are, good or bad, you are for your son, for Nino! Come!
There is safety for us in that. We will go and talk with Nino between
us. Then we shall say nothing of which we can be ashamed or regret."

There came to Herman a vision of his boy clasped in Helen's arms which
made him feel as if suffocating with the excess of his emotion. He rose
blindly, only half conscious of what he was doing; and without giving
time for objections Helen hastened to dress herself for the street, and
in a few moments they were walking together toward the sculptor's
house.

To Herman's surprise, his wife was absent when he reached home. The
maid did not know where she had gone. She often went out in the morning
without saying where she was going, and of course the servant did not
ask.

"That is odd," Herman said; "but she has probably gone shopping or