“Oh no,” she answered, unsteadily. “Indeed, indeed, I don’t! I am very grateful to you. But the other—I don’t think it is true.”
“No?” he said, keeping his eyes on her face. “And then, you don’t doubt that I love you?”
“No.” The flush had faded from her face and left her pale. “I don’t doubt that—now.”
“It is so true that—you know that you have sometimes called me Peter? Well, I would have given much, very much to call you Mary. But I did not dare. I could not. For I knew that if I did, only once, my voice would betray me, and that I should alarm you before the time! I knew that that one word—that word alone—would set my heart upon my sleeve for all to see. And I did not want to alarm you. I did not want to hurry you. I thought then that I had time, time to make myself known to you, time to prove my devotion, time to win you, Mary. I thought that I could wait. Now, since last night, I am afraid to wait. I doubt, nay I am sure, that I have no time, that I dare not wait.”
She did not answer, but the color mounted again to her face.
He turned and knocked the fire together with his foot. Then he took a step towards her. “Tell me,” he said, “have I any chance? Any chance at all, Mary?”
She shook her head; but seeing then that he kept his eyes fixed on her and would not take that for an answer, “None,” she said as kindly as she could. “I must tell you the truth. It is useless to try to break it. I have never once, not once thought of you but as a friend, Peter.”
“But now,” he said, “cannot you regard me differently—now! Now that you know? Cannot you begin to think of me as—a lover?”
“No,” Mary said frankly and pitifully. “I should not be honest if I said that I could. If I held out hopes. You have been always good to me, kind to me, a dear friend, a brother when I had need of one. And I am grateful, Mr. Basset, honestly, really grateful to you. And fond of you—in that way. But I could not think of you in the way you desire. I know it for certain. I know that there is no chance.”
He stood for a moment without speaking, and seeing how stricken he looked, how sad his face, her eyes filled with tears. Then, “Is there any one else?” he asked slowly, his eyes on her face.