"I have certainly not told him that."
"Then you are unfair to him, and also unfair to James Randolph. You think nothing at all of breaking his heart."
"He was away when he might have helped me," I replied. "That was, I know, through no fault of his, but I cannot say any more except that I will not break my bond."
The Duchess went away, and in the evening Jim arrived. He came in with that very quiet manner which he always wore, that absolute self-possession which I do not think under any circumstances would desert him, but I read the anxiety in his grey eyes, the quizzical, half-laughing glance was gone altogether, the eyes were very grave and almost stern.
"Now," he said, "I have come to say very plain words. I want to know why you will not marry me."
"Have you not heard?" I asked.
"I have heard nothing," he answered. "I have been given no reason; you just told me you could not marry me the other night, and you were so upset and shaken that I did not press the matter any further. You know, of course, that I can give you everything now that the heart of girl could desire."
"Do not talk of those things," I said. "I would marry you if you had only a hundred a year; I would marry you if you had nothing a year, provided we could earn our living together. O Jim! I love you so much, I love you so much, so much."
I covered my face with my hands, a deep, dry sob came from my throat.
"Then if that is so," he answered, half bending towards me and yet restraining himself, "why will you not marry me?"