"Madam, do not speak thus! Give me no word which my folly can distort into a ray of hope, unless you wish to drive me mad. No! it is impossible; and, were it possible, what but ruin to my soul? I should live for you, and not for my work. I should become a schemer, ambitious, intriguing, in the vain hope of proving myself to the world worthy of you. No; let it be. 'Let the dead bury their dead, and follow thou me.'"
She made no answer—what answer was there to make? And he strode on by her side in silence for full ten minutes. At last she was forced to speak.
"Mr. Headley, recollect that this conversation has gone too far for us to avoid coming to some definite understanding—"
"Then it shall, Miss St. Just. Then it shall, once and for all: formally and deliberately, it shall end now. Suppose,—I only say suppose,—that I could, without failing in my own honour, my duty to my calling, make myself such a name among good men that, poor parson though I be, your family need be ashamed of nothing about me, save my poverty? Tell me, now and for ever, could it be possible—"
He stopped. She walked on, silent, in her turn.
"Say no, as a matter of course, and end it!" said he, bitterly.
She drew a long breath, as if heaving off a weight.
"I cannot—dare not say it."
"It? Which of the two? yes, or no?"
She was silent.