“Beth,” he said at last, his struggle revealed in his voice, “I should not be worthy that love you have given me so unreservedly, did I stoop now to its abuse.  I could never forgive myself were I to urge you to do that which your conscience so clearly condemns.  To me there is a marriage far more sacred and enduring than any witnessed by man, or solemnized by formal service—­the secret union of hearts.  We are one in this, and nothing can ever come between us.  Then let all else wait; let it wait until God shall open a way along which we may walk in honor.  Mutual sacrifice can never make us any less dear to each other.  This condition may serve to separate us for a while, yet I believe the path will open, and that you will learn to perceive your duty from a broader view-point—­one that will permit you to find happiness in true love, unhaunted by any memory of the false.”

She arose slowly to her feet, the tears clinging to her lashes, both hands outstretched.

“Oh, I thank you!  I thank you!” she exclaimed with deep fervor.  “Those words prove you all I ever believed you to be.  They give me hope, courage, patience to remain true to myself, true to my lifelong ideals of womanhood.  I am certain you trust me, comprehend my motives, and will think no less of me because of my unwillingness to forfeit a conception of right.  He is absolutely nothing to me—­nothing.  He never could be.  There are times when I feel that his death even could not fitly atone for the evil he has wrought me.  Never again will his influence touch my life to change its purpose.  It is not he that keeps us apart; it is a solemn, sacred pledge made by a trusting girl in God’s presence—­a pledge I cannot forget, cannot break without forfeiting my self-respect, my honor.”

He drew her gently to him, his eyes no longer filled with passion, yet containing a depth of love that left her helpless to resist his will.

“Beth, dear,” he whispered, his lips almost pressing her cheek, “I will not think of him, but only of you.  If you love me I am content.  The mere knowledge itself is happiness.  Tell me once again that this is true.”

“It is true, forever true; I love you.”

“May I have for this one time the pledge of your lips?”

A single instant she seemed to hesitate, her cheeks flushing hotly, her dark eyes lowered before his.  But she lifted her face, and their lips met and clung, as though parting must be forever.  Amid the closely gathering shadows he led her back to the vacated stool, and stood beside her, gently stroking the soft dark hair of the bowed head.

“You have plans?” he questioned quietly.  “You have decided how you are to live while we await each other?”

“Yes,” half timidly, as though fearful he might oppose her decision.  “I believe I had better return to my work upon the stage.”  She glanced up at him anxiously.  “You do not care, do you?  It seems to me I am best fitted for that; I have ambition to succeed, and—­and it affords me something worthy to think about.”