He laid his hand gently round her neck, and, finding that she did not repulse him, knelt beside her and tried to draw her to his breast. For a few minutes she let her head rest on his shoulder, and clung to him as if she could not let him go. When she grew calmer, he began to whisper tender words into her ear.
"Cynthia, I will give up all the world for your dear sake! Let us go away from England together, and live only for each other, darling! We could be happy somewhere, away from the toil and strife of London, could we not? I love you only, dearest—only you! If you like, we would go to America and see whether we could not find your poor father, who, I have heard, is living there; and we could cheer his last days together. Will you not make me happy in this way, Cynthia? Be my wife, and let us forget all the world beside."
She shook her head. She had wept so violently that at first she could not speak.
"Why do you shake your head? You do not doubt my love? My darling, I count the world well lost for you. Do not distrust me again! Do you think I mind what the world says, or what my relatives say? You are Cynthia and my love to me, and whose daughter you are matters nothing—nothing at all!"
"But it matters to me," she whispered brokenly—"and I cannot consent."
"Dearest, don't say that! You must consent! Your only chance of happiness lies with me, and mine with you."
"But you have promised yourself," she murmured, "to Enid Vane."
"Conditionally; and I am certain—certain that she does not care for me."
"I am not certain," she whispered.
Then there was a little pause; during which he felt that she was bracing herself to say something which was hard for her to say.