"Not I. My mother's name and my mother's shame is all my portion."
"Poor John—'tis hard to smart for others so. Yet—you're my own cousin."
"Don't think it. These things run by law, not by blood. I'm mere fatherless dust—not worthy to be trod upon by you. I can't live for you now, Grace; I might die for you; 'tis the highest fate I hope for."
She reflected for some moments, then answered—
"I do not see that the case is much altered. We had guessed at this, John; it hardly hurts me. We are still as we were. There is nothing between us that prevents me from being your wife."
"How ignorant you are of this cold, cursed world! You argue like an angel might that had never been beyond the gate of heaven. But we must face facts now. All is changed."
"Except my word and yours. I've promised to wed you; and a Malherb does not break promises. Don't I love you dearly? Tell me that I do."
"Right well I know it."
"Then that's your weapon against this cold world you speak of. You've got to make the world warm for yourself—and me; you've got to make the world forget this accident of birth. How are you different? You were born like any other. A man may be born to power; but no man is born great. 'Tis but an extra handicap and obstacle at the start. Oh, my brains are quick as lightning to-day! You must conquer this thing, as many great men have; you must see that it might have been ten thousand times worse. Your father was my father's favourite brother. He was a soldier and died in the wars. Now 'tis for you to make my father your friend. Then he gets you a commission in the Army. Then you go to the wars, and—oh, no, no—to think that I can say that! I who still wear black for my brother!"
But he saw her vision of himself—grown great despite his birth. He beheld himself winning a place in the world even worthy to offer her. He was young and sanguine, and her words had thrown a veil over the harsh truth. Yet his spirit sank.