“You know what I have done: it is your work,” she answered, humbly. “Why return to it now?”
“I return to it for the last time; I return to it with a purpose which you will soon understand. You have abandoned your marriage engagement; you have forfeited Lady Janet’s love; you have ruined all your worldly prospects; you are now returning, self-devoted, to a life which you have yourself described as a life without hope. And all this you have done of your own free-will—at a time when you are absolutely secure of your position in the house—for the sake of speaking the truth. Now tell me, is a woman who can make that sacrifice a woman who will prove unworthy of the trust if a man places in her keeping his honor and his name?”
She understood him at last. She broke away from him with a cry. She stood with her hands clasped, trembling and looking at him.
He gave her no time to think. The words poured from his lips without conscious will or conscious effort of his own.
“Mercy, from the first moment when I saw you I loved you! You are free; I may own it; I may ask you to be my wife!”
She drew back from him further and further, with a wild imploring gesture of her hand.
“No! no!” she cried. “Think of what you are saying! think of what you would sacrifice! It cannot, must not be.”
His face darkened with a sudden dread. His head fell on his breast. His voice sank so low that she could barely hear it.
“I had forgotten something,” he said. “You’ve reminded me of it.”
She ventured back a little nearer to him. “Have I offended you?”