"I think you are forgetting that I have a stake in the matter as well as yourself," he quietly said, his tone proving how great the pain was. "Do you not know what, deprived of you, my future life will be? At least, I have a right to say a few words."
"Well--yes, that's true. I suppose I did forget, Robert."
"Forgive me then for reminding you that the sole and immediate cause of Cyril's death, is Richard. I did nothing whatever to help it on; my conscience is clear; the most prejudiced man could not charge me with it. And you? It is certainly a pity--I am speaking plainly--that you disobeyed Mr. Thornycroft in allowing me to come to the Red Court; it was very wrong; but still you did it not with any ill intention, and certainly do not merit the punishment of being condemned to live a lonely life."
"But Richard is my brother. See what it has brought on him."
"What he has brought upon himself," corrected Mr. Hunter. "I do not see that his being your brother throws, or should be allowed to throw any bar upon your marriage with me. You would not say so had he been a stranger."
"Where is the use of arguing?" she broke in. "I cannot bear it; I will not hear it. All is at an end between us. Do you forgive me, Robert, if I cause you pain? Nothing in the world, or out of it, shall ever induce me to become your wife."
"Is this your fixed determination?"
"Fixed and unalterable. Fixed as those stars above us. Fixed as Cyril's grave."
"Then it only remains for me to return the way I came," he gloomily said. "And the sooner I start the better."
They stood up; looking for a moment each into the other's face. There was no relenting in hers. "Fare you well, Mary Anne."