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?"
He smiled sadly. "You have enlightened me. I had forgotten that it
doesn't follow, because I love you, that you should love me in return.
Say that it is so, Mercy, and I leave you."
A faint tinge of color rose on her face--then left it again paler than
ever. Her eyes looked downward timidly under the eager gaze that he
fastened on her.
"How _can_ I say so?" she answered, simply. "Where is the woman in my
place whose heart could resist you?"
He eagerly advanced; he held out his arms to her in breathless,
speechless joy. She drew back from him once more with a look that
horrified him--a look of blank despair.
"Am I fit to be your wife?" she asked. "Must I remind you of what you
owe to your high position, your spotless integrity, your famous name?
Think of all that you have done for me, and then think of the
black ingratitude of it if I ruin you for life by consenting to our
marriage--if I selfishly, cruelly, wickedly, drag you down to the level
of a woman like me!"
"I raise you to _my_ level when I make you my wife," he answered.
"For Heaven's sake do me justice! Don't refer me to the world and its
opinions. It rests with you, and you alone, to make the misery or the
happiness of my life. The world! Good God! what can the world give me in
exchange for You?"
She clasped her hands imploringly; the tears flowed fast over her
cheeks.
"Oh, have pity on my weakness!" she cried. "Kindest, best of men, help
me to do my hard duty toward you! It is so hard, after all that I have
suffered--when my heart is yearning for peace and happiness and love!"
She checked herself, shuddering at the words that had escaped her.
"Remember how Mr. Holmcroft has used me! Remember how Lady Janet has
left me! Remember what I have told you of my life! The scorn of every
creature you know would strike at you through me. No! no! no! Not a word
more. Spare me! pity me! leave me!"