“Why unhappy?” he asked, and his voice was very tender.

“To begin with:  you could never love any one.”

“I have swept all that on one side.  That is over.”

“How can it be over?  You had sworn.”

“Yes; but it is over.”

“Dare you break your vow?”

“If I dare, who else dare question me?  Have I not counted the cost?”

“Nothing can make it right.”

“Why talk of that?  It is my sin and my concern.”

“You destroy all my esteem for you.”

“I ask for love, not for esteem.  Esteem between you and me!  I love you more than all the world.”

“Ah! don’t say that!”

“Yes, more than my soul.  And you talk of esteem!  Ah! you don’t know what a man’s love is.”

“I never thought of you as making love.”

“I think now of nothing else.  Why should I trouble you with my struggles?  Now I am free to love—­and you, Claudia, are free to return my love.”

“Did you think I was in love with you?”

“Yes,” said Stafford.  “But you knew my promise, and did not let yourself see your own feelings.  Ah, Claudia! if it is only the promise!”

“It isn’t only the promise.  You have no right to speak like that.  I should never have done as I did if I’d even thought of you like that.”

“What do you mean by saying it’s not only the promise?”

“Why, that I don’t love you—­I never did—­oh, what a wretched thing!” And she rose and paced about, clasping her hands.

Stafford was very pale now, but very quiet.

“You never loved me?”

“No.”

“But you will.  You must, when you know my love—­”

“No.”

“Yes, but you will.  Let me tell you what you are—­”

“No, I never can.”

“Is it true?  Why?”

“Because—­oh! don’t you see?”

“No.  Wasn’t it because you loved me that you wouldn’t let Eugene speak?”

“No, no, no!”

“Claudia,” he cried, clasping her wrist, “were you playing with him?”

No answer seemed possible but the truth.

“Yes,” she said, bowing her head.

“And playing with me?”

“No, that’s unjust.  I never did.  I thought—­”

“You thought I was beyond hurt?”

“I suppose so.  You set up to be.”

“Yes, I set up to be,” he said bitterly.

“And the truth—­in God’s name let us have truth—­is that you love him?”

“Have you no pity?  Why do you press me?”

“I will not press you; God forbid I should trouble you!  But is this the end?”

“Yes.”

“It is final—­no hope?  Think what it means to me.”

“If I do care for Mr. Lane, is this friendly to him?”

“I am beyond friendship, as I am beyond conscience.  Claudia, turn to me.  No man ever loved as I do.”

“I can’t help it,” she said:  “I can’t help it!”