She clutched her hands tightly, then she stood calm. She would not lie.
"It is not better," she said, steadily. "If I know my own heart, nothing in the coming heaven is so dear as what I lose. But I cannot be your wife, Douglas Palmer."
His face flashed strangely.
"It is simple selfishness, then? You fear to lose your reward? What is my poor love to the eternity of happiness you trade it for?"
A proud heat flushed her face.
"You know you do not speak truly. I do not deserve the taunt."
The same curious smile glimmered over his mouth. He was silent for a moment.
"I overrate your sacrifice: it costs you little to say, like the old Pharisee, 'Stand by, I am holier than thou!' You never loved me, Theodora. Let me go down—to the land where you think all things are forgotten. What is it to you? In hell I can lift up my eyes"—
She cried out sharply, as with pain.
"I will not forsake my Master," she said. "He is real, more dear than you. I give you up."