"You mustn't say that, Liz. I love no other."
"I don't think you do, Alf; but if you loved me as well as I love you, you would not keep secrets from me."
He looked at her with sudden alarm.
"Secrets, Liz! Who told you I had secrets?"
"My heart," she replied, with a yearning look, and then, at sight of his troubled face, altered her tone as if she were schooling herself, and said archly, "Girls are artful guessers. And I'm jealous."
"Of whom?"
"Of Mr. Sheldrake. You have been talking secrets with him up-stairs; and I have a better right than he to share them with you. I hate that man!" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes. "There's nothing mean that he wouldn't do; he has a false heart, and his smooth words can't hide his bad thoughts. I saw in his face to-day what seems to be hidden from you. O, how I wish you had never known him!"
"It's of no use wishing, Liz. Perhaps it will all turn out for the best. Don't worry me, there's a dear! I want cheering up badly."
He laid his head upon the table wearily; his folly had made life very bitter to him. One of its sweetest blessings was his, and he had set it far below worthless things. As Lizzie's arms stole tenderly round his neck, and as her sweet words fell upon his ears, he was conscious that he had never rightly appreciated her love. He thought now how happy his life might be if he had been contented and honest, and if he had not yielded to temptation.
"Lizzie," he said with his face hidden, "I have not acted rightly to you. If I could commence over again—"