effort to free herself, then yielded. Soul and body were too weak, the
ecstasy of his touch too great.

* * * * *

"You can't love me--you can't."

She had torn herself away. They were sitting side by side; but now she
would not even give him her hand. That one trembling kiss had changed
their lives. But in both natures, passion was proud and fastidious from
its birth; it could live without much caressing.

As she spoke, he met her gaze with a smiling emotion. The long, stern
face in its grizzled setting of hair and beard had suffered a
transformation that made it almost strange to her. He was like a man
loosed from many bonds, and dazzled by the effects of his own will. The
last few minutes had made him young again. But she looked at him
wistfully once or twice, as though her fancy nursed something which had
grown dear to it.

"You can't love me," she repeated; "when did you begin? You didn't love
me yesterday, you know--nor the day before."

"Why do you suppose I went away the day after the ghost?" he asked her
slowly.

"Because you had business, or you were tired of my very undesirable
company."

"Put it as you like! Do you explain my recent absences in the same way?"