"Then you think—"
"No," said I, with a burst I could not control, "I do not think; I do not want to think; do not make me, I entreat."
He smiled, a sad and fearful smile, and took another turn up and down the seemingly darkening room. When he came back I was cold as marble, and almost as insensible.
"Miss Sterling," were his words, "do you remember a conversation we had this morning?"
I bowed, with a sudden rush of hope that almost melted me again.
"In that conversation I made a solemn assertion; do you recollect what it was?"
"Yes," I looked, if I did not audibly reply.
"I make that assertion again—is it sufficient?" he asked.
At that moment it seemed to me that it was. I looked and felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my heart, and though he flushed deeply, as any man of spirit, let alone one of such a proud and aristocratic nature as his, would be apt to under the circumstances, I saw that he experienced a relief also, and giving way to an impulse I do not yet know whether to regret or not, I held out my hand, saying calmly:
"I will remain, Mr. Pollard."