“I lifted my face till my cheek just touched his. I persisted, with my lips close at his ear:
“‘What, no confidence in me even yet! No confidence in the woman who has almost confessed she loves you—who has almost consented to be your wife!’
“He turned his face to mine. For the second time he tried to kiss me, and for the second time I stopped him.
“‘If I tell you my name,’ he said, ‘I must tell you more.’
“I let my cheek touch his again.
“‘Why not?’ I said. ‘How can I love a man—much less marry him—if he keeps himself a stranger to me?’
“There was no answering that, as I thought. But he did answer it.
“‘It is a dreadful story,’ he said. ‘It may darken all your life, if you know it, as it has darkened mine.’
“I put my other arm round him, and persisted. ‘Tell it me; I’m not afraid; tell it me.’
“He began to yield to my other arm.