When he had done Tom Fuller arose, and stood before him, white as death, but with a noble look in his eyes.
"Mellon, give me your hand, for you and I are just the two most wretched dogs in America at this minute. I loved her, Mellen, O God help me! I love her as you did the other one. Great heavens, what can we do?"
"Nothing," answered Mellen; "I did not think another pang could be added, and my soul recoils from this. Could she prove so base to you also?"
"Base; look here, Mellen, you don't take this in the true light. It was all my fault. I forced myself upon her; I—I——"
The poor fellow broke down, a convulsion of grief swept his face, and he walked away.
Directly he came back, holding out his hand.
"Come, now let us search for Elizabeth," he said.
"It is useless; I have searched."
"But come with me—it was not in town you should have looked; Elizabeth would not go there."
Mellen arose and walked towards the bay. In passing a clump of rosebushes Tom stopped to extricate a fragment of silk from the thorns.