"Oh, I am so sorry for this!" said poor Mary. "I never dreamt of this. Oh, no! it is utterly and entirely impossible, Mr. Marston—utterly and hopelessly impossible! You must forgive me, if you can; but you must never, never think about me more."
"Is there no hope?" said Marston.
"No hope, no hope!" said Mary. "Please never think about me any more, till you have forgiven me; and then, with your children on your knee, think of me as a friend who loves you dearly."
"I shall think of you till I die. I was afraid of this: it is just as I thought."
"What did you think?"
"Nothing—nothing! Will you let me kiss your hand?"
"Surely; and God bless you!"
"Are we to say good-bye for ever, then?" said poor Marston.
"I hope not. I should be sorry to think that," said poor Mary, crying. "But you must never speak to me like this again, dear Mr. Marston. God bless you, once more!"