"You are mad; you must be mad," she said. "What does this mean?"
"It means that I intend to propose for Florence Aylmer. Whether she will accept me or not God only knows, but I love her."
"You told me a short time ago that you were not her lover."
"I had not then looked into my own heart. Now I find that I care for no one else. Her image fills my mind day and night; I am unhappy about her—too unhappy to endure this state of things any longer."
"Do you think she will take you, a penniless man? Do you think you are a good match for her or for any girl?"
"That has nothing to do with it. If she loves me she will accept all that I can give her, and I can work for my living."
"I will not listen to another word of this. You have pained me inexpressibly."
"You gave me time to decide, and I have decided. If you will forgive Miss Aylmer whatever she happened to do to displease you, if you will make her joint heiress with me in your estates, then we will both serve you and love you most faithfully and most truly; but if you will not give her back her true position I at least will offer her all that a man can offer—his heart, his worship, and all the talent he possesses. I can work for my wife, and before God I shall be fifty times happier than in my present position."
Mrs. Aylmer pointed to the door.
"I will not speak to you any more," she said. "This is disastrous, disgraceful! Go! Leave my presence!"