“I didn’t dare!”
The words were an admission, and in a moment Gerard was close beside her, looking into her face, begging her not to play with him.
“You love me, Rachel, you love me, and not this fellow! Why don’t you own it? Why can’t you throw him over, and tell him and everyone that you care for me, that you’re going to marry me? Don’t worry your head about your career, about money, about anything. I can’t make you rich at once, but I’m not quite a pauper even now. You will have to make some sacrifices, but they won’t be so hard. Your mother will not mind living in a smaller house, and your sister has had a year’s schooling, and Lady Jennings will take charge of her, and bring her out and all that. Even for your family there’s no need for you to sacrifice your own happiness any longer. Rachel, Rachel, say that you will cut yourself off from all these people whom you hate and whom you are afraid of, and make up your mind to be happy.”
She was deeply moved by his passionate words, and her tears were falling fast. But she was steadfast, even in her sorrow.
“I can’t,” she said. “You mustn’t ask me why, but I can’t. I know I’ve been selfish to ask you to come to speak to me, but I couldn’t let you go like that—thinking I was like a stone. I’m involved—too deeply to get free. There—that’s all I dare tell you. And now you had better try to forget me; it’s the only thing to do. I’ve thought it over, indeed, and I can’t get free, and I can’t move independently.”
This admission passionately uttered, was a terrible shock to Gerard.
“But what will the end be—it must have an end?” he asked quickly.
She turned upon him a look of intense alarm.
“An end! What do you mean?”
He spoke out boldly—