"Roger, that must never be!"
"Why?"
I spoke harshly, for my heart became hard as a stone, and yet it seemed to grow too big for my bosom.
"Because," she answered, her voice trembling as she did so, "she loathes, shudders at the thought of marrying you."
"How dare you say this?" I cried angrily, and yet I knew her words were true. Ruth's face had told me the same story only that very evening.
"If you wish to drive her mad, kill her, murder her!" went on my mother, "ask her to do as her father wishes."
"What is there in me to drive her mad, or to murder her?" I cried. "I have always been kind to her."
"Nothing, nothing, Roger. She loves you as a brother. You have been very good to her. None of us forget that twice you saved her life."
"Then why do you say she loathes me?"
"Can you not see what I mean? She does not loathe you as a brother; but she loathes the thought of your being her husband, and were you to insist on a marriage, you would kill her!"