"No, Pauline," he said at last, speaking with effort. "It is all over now, and we will never talk of it again."
I was silent for many minutes--standing before him with irresolution. "If it was right for me to marry you before," I said at last, "Why is it not right now, if I mean to do my duty?"
"No, it is no longer right, if it ever was," he answered. "I will not take advantage of your sense of duty now, as I was going to take advantage of your necessity before. No, you are free, and it is all at an end."
"You are unjust to yourself. You were not taking advantage of my necessity. You were saving me, and I am ashamed of myself when I think of everything. Oh, Richard, where did you learn to be so good!"
A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he turned away from me.
"If you give me up," I said timidly, "who will take care of me?"
"There will be plenty now," he answered bitterly.
"There wasn't anybody yesterday."
"But there will be to-morrow. No, Pauline," he said, lifting his head and speaking in a firmer voice, "What I thought I was doing, till this showed me my heart, and how I had deceived myself, I will do now, even if it kills me. I thought I was acting for your good, and from a sense of duty: now that I know what is for your good, and what is my duty, I will go on in that, and nothing shall turn me from it, so help me Heaven."
"At least you will forgive me," I said, with tears, "for all the things that I have made you suffer."