'No, no, not yet. I haven't told you half I have to say,' interrupted Statham, pushing his friend back into his chair, and seating himself. 'Of course you're astonished, living the life you do, "celibate as a fly in the heart of an apple," as Jeremy Taylor has it, at any one's falling in love, and at me more than any one else. You think I am not formed for that sort of thing; that I am hard and cold and practical, and that I have been so all my life. You little dream, Martin--for I have never said a word about it, even to you--that some years ago I was so devoted to a woman as to be nearly heartbroken when she abandoned me.'
'Abandoned you!'
'Yes.' He shuddered, and passed his hand across his face. 'I don't like to think about it even now, and should not recur to it if the circumstances had not a connection with Claxton.'
'With Alice!' exclaimed Martin, and bending forward eagerly.
'Yes. I Must tell you the whole story, or you will not understand it; but I will tell it shortly. Some years ago, down in the north, I fell in love with a pretty girl below my own station in life. I pursued the acquaintance, and speedily let her know the state of my feelings towards her; not, as you will readily understand, with any base motives; for I never, thank Heaven, had any desire to play the seducer-- What's the matter, Martin? How white you look! Are you faint?'
'A little faint, thank you; it's quite over now. You were saying--'
'I was saying that I despised the wretchedly-vulgar artifices of the seducer, and that I meant fairly and honourably by this girl. I was not able to marry her immediately, however. I was poor then, and her friends insisted, rightly enough, that I should show I was able to maintain her. I worked hard to that end,' said Humphrey after a short pause; 'but when I went down in triumph to claim her, I found she had fled from Headingly.'
'From where?' cried Martin, starting forward.
'Headingly, near Leeds; that was where she lived. She had fled away from there, no one knew whither. A week before I reached the place she was missed--had vanished, leaving no letter of explanation, no trace of the route she had taken. And I never saw her more.'
'He paused again; but Martin Gurwood spoke not, bending forward still with his eyes fixed upon his friend.