The New Magdalen

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!"