“Bob, you are unnerved,” she said; “you have been through a terrible ordeal.  For an hour I have been reading in the bulletins of the banks and trust companies that have failed, of the banking-houses that have been ruined.  I have been reading that you did it; that you have made millions—­and I knew it was for me, for father, but in the midst of my joy, my gratitude, my love—­for, oh, Bob, I love you,” she interrupted herself passionately; “it seems as though I love you beyond the capacity of a human heart to love.  I think that for the right to be yours for one single moment of this life I would smilingly endure all the pains and miseries of eternal torture.  Yes, Bob, for the right to have you call me yours for only while I heard the word, I would do anything, Bob, anything that was honourable.”

She had drawn his head down close to her face, and her great blue eyes searched his as though they would go to his very soul.  She was a child in her simple appeal for him to allow her to see his heart, to see that there was nothing black there.

As she gazed, her beautiful hands played through his hair as do a mother’s through that of the child she is soothing in sickness.

“Bob, speak to me, speak to me,” she begged, “tell me there was no dishonour in the getting of those millions.  Tell me no one was made to suffer as my father and I have suffered.  Tell me that the suicides and the convicts, the daughters dragged to shame and the mothers driven to the madhouse as a result of this panic, cannot be charged to anything unfair or dishonourable that you have done.  Bob, oh, Bob, answer!  Answer no, or my heart will break; or if, Bob, you have made a mistake, if you have done that which in your great desire to aid me and my father seemed justifiable, but which you now see was wrong, tell it to me, Bob dear, and together we will try to undo it.  We will try to find a way to atone.  We will give the millions to the last, last penny to those upon whom you have brought misery.  Father’s loss will not matter.  Together we will go to him and tell him what we have done, what we have lived through, tell him of our mistake, and in our agony he will forget his own.  For such a horror has my father of anything dishonourable that he will embrace his misery as happiness when he knows that his teachings have enabled his daughter to undo this great wrong.  And then, Bob, we will be married, and you and I and father and mother will be together, and be, oh, so happy, and we will begin all over again.”

“Beulah, stop; in the name of God, in the name of your love for me, don’t say another word.  There is a limit to the capacity of a man to suffer, even if he be a great, strong brute like myself, and, Beulah, I have reached that limit.  The day has been a hard one.”

His voice softened and became as a tired child’s.