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138ARIADNE.rootit up; a frost-crystal, they must snatch andbreak it;Iwas a chdd and cruel: chUdren arecruel. Passion is brutal, too;but it is strongand constant.Ihad not passion. Isaid tomyself she shaU care for me and not her art;butInever should have said it if she hadnotlooked so far away from earth and all its follies.Inever loved her; no! One must be hurt tolove;she never hurt me."Oh, terrible words and terrible truth; he hadhurt her as he would,and she alone of the twohad been faithful.He ascended the steps of thetemple, andwalked to and fro wearily, for his consciencestirred and smote him." AVasit vanity ? " he muttered. "Perhapsitwas vanity! It was not love.Something oflove — its amorous charm, of course — came intoit; for she was so lovely in body and mind,and she worshipped me as never other creatureever did,Ithink ;but for the rest 1nevershould have touched her if you had not cautionedme, and if she had not had those deep,serene, abstracted eyes of hers, that seemed