She saw great drops of agony on his brow; she saw a world of pain in his eyes which alarmed her.
"It cannot be," he replied, hoarsely. "You must urge me no more--you are torturing me."
Then she rose, humbly enough, and turned away.
"I will say no more, Norman. Now do with me what you please."
There was silence for a few minutes. The sun was sinking low in the western sky, the chirp of the birds was growing faint in the trees. She raised her colorless face to his.
"I submit, Norman," she said. "You have some plan to propose. Do with me just as you will."
It was cruel--no crueler fate had ever fallen to a man's lot--but honor obliged him to act as he did. He took her hand in his.
"Some day, dear wife," he said, "you will understand what suffering this step has cost me."
"Yes," she murmured, faintly; "I may understand in time."
"While I have been sitting here," he went on, "I have been thinking it all over, and I have come to a decision as to what will be best for you and for me. You are Lady Arleigh of Beechgrove--you are my wife; you shall have all the honor and respect due to your position."