"It's sweet to hear such words—though I know you can't make them good."
"I'll make them good," he broke in, "with every drop of blood in my veins—and no coward has ever borne my father's name—it's good blood!"
"That's just it—and blood will tell. It's the law of life and I've given up."
"Well, I haven't given up," he protested, "remember that! Try me with your secret—I laugh before I hear it!"
With a gleam of hope in her deep blue eyes she rose trembling:
"You really mean that? If I go an outcast you would go with me?"
"Yes—yes."
"And if a curse is branded on my forehead you'll take its shame as yours?"
"Yes."
She laid her hand on his arm, looked long and yearningly into his eyes, and said: