“What is it?” he said at last.
“Nothing,” she answered, “nothing.” She spoke the word with a hard intonation.
Hugh held her close in his arms, with a sort of strange idea that to do so would crush his disappointment. She was proving her love by her silence. Why, then, did he wish that she should speak? At last she said, in a low voice:—
“There is one thing you ought to know. If I marry you, I marry you a beggar. I shall lose my fortune. I am not obliged to lose it, but I mean to give it up. Don't ask me why.”
He had no need to. He waited, but she was silent. So that was all. He kissed her again, loosened his arms from about her and stood up.
“I have enough for both,” he said.
He did not look at her, and she could not look at him.
“Are you going?” she said.
“Yes; but I will call this evening.”
He was at the door, and had half-opened it when he turned back, moved by a passionate impulse.