s in the garden
beside him.

A man said, "Then I have your answer?"

A woman said, "Yes; yes."

"You will not trust to my pledged honour?"

"Pardon me; not that. I will not live in disgrace."

"When I promise, on my soul, that the moment I am free I will set you
right before the world?"

"Oh! pardon me."

"You will?"

"No; no! I cannot."

"You choose to give yourself to an obscure dog, who'll ill-treat you, and
for whom you don't care a pin's-head; and why? that you may be fenced
from gossip, and nothing more. I thought you were a woman above that kind
of meanness. And this is a common countryman. How will you endure that
kind of life? You were made for elegance and happiness: you shall have
it. I met you before your illness, when you would not listen to me: I met
you after. I knew you at once. Am I changed? I swear to you I have
dreamed of you ever since, and love you. Be as faded as you like; be
hideous, if you like; but come with me. You know my name, and what I am.
Twice I have followed you, and found your name and address; twice I have
written to you, and made the same proposal. And you won't trust to my
honour? When I tell you I love you tenderly? When I give you my solemn
assurance that you shall not regret it? You have been deceived by one
man: why punish me? I know--I feel you are innocent and good. This is the
third time that you have permitted me to speak to you: let it be final.
Say you will trust yourself to me--trust in my honour. Say it shall be
to-morrow. Yes; say the word. To-morrow. My sweet creature--do!"

The man spoke earnestly, but a third person and extraneous hearer could
hardly avoid being struck by the bathetic conclusion. At least, in tone
it bordered on a fall; but the woman did not feel it so.

She replied: "You mean kindly to me, sir. I thank you indeed, for I am
very friendless. Oh! pardon me: I am quite--quite determined. Go--pray,
forget me."

This was Dahlia's voice.

Robert was unconscious of having previously suspected it. Heartily
ashamed of letting his ears be filled with secret talk, he went from the
garden and crossed the street.

He knew this to be one of the temptations of young women in London.

Shortly after, the man came through the iron gateway of the garden. He
passed under lamplight, and Robert perceived him to be a gentleman in
garb.

A light appeared in the windows of the house. Now that he had heard her
voice, the terrors of his interview were disp