"Is there some other reason," asked Brett, quickly. "Something that I do not know?"
"All the reasons," she exclaimed passionately, "all the reasons there ever were."
"Do you love him still?" asked Brett, scarcely knowing what he was saying.
Marion drew still further back from him and spoke in an altered tone.
"Mr. Brett, you have no right to ask me such a question."
"No right? I? No, perhaps I have no right. But I take the right whether it is mine or not. Because I love you still, as I have always loved you, because there is nothing in heaven or earth I would not do for you, because if you asked me for all I possessed at this moment, you should have it, to do what you like with it—though you shall have nothing of what is yours—because, to save you the least pain, I would take John Darche's place and go to prison and be called a rascal and a thief before all the world, for your sake, for your dear sake, Marion. I love you. You know that I love you. Right or wrong—but it is right and not wrong! There is not a man in the world who would do for any woman the least of the things I would do for you."
Again he tried to take her hand, though she resisted and snatched it from him after a little struggle.
"Leave me! leave me!" she cried despairingly. "Let me go!"
"Not until you know, not until you understand that every word I say means ten thousand times more than it ever meant to any one, not until you know that I love you through and through with every part of me, with every thought and action of my life. Look at me! Look into my eyes! Do you not see it there, the truth, the devotion? No? Is it so long since I loved you and you said—you thought—you believed for one little day that you loved me? Can you not remember it? Can you not remember even the sound of the words? They were so sweet to hear! They are so very sweet as they come back now—with all they mean now—but could not mean then!"
"Harry!"