"I care not, now I see you," I cried. "I have done nothing wrong, except that I am doing wrong in loving you. I have not won back Pennington yet, but I will do it, God helping, I will, if—if you will give me just one word of promise."
I spoke in a low tone so that no one could hear, and indeed the crowd seemed too much bent on other things to notice me.
"It is no use," she said—"it is no use. Do not try any more, it is hopeless."
"I shall never give up hope," I said.
"Even now my guardian is seeking to do you harm," she cried. "This I know."
"I am not afraid of him," I cried. "You know what I told you—that night—last November. You did not scorn me then. I hoped then that some day you might care for me; it is my hope still."
"It is no use," she cried again, looking anxiously around her—"it is no use. I am to be married to Nick Tresidder; at least they all want me to marry him."
"No!" I cried. "No!"
"I cannot help myself," she said, piteously.