I love you, Betty, but you
shall never have cause to fear me. Do you believe me and do you trust me,
Betty?"

For answer she held up her lips to me. What she had refused on my
request, she gave of her own accord, saying:--

"There, Baron Ned. Now, if you really respect me, you will know that
I trust you, for I am not a girl to do this thing wantonly. Perhaps I
should not have done it at all, but you must know that I could not help
it. If you care for my friendship or are concerned for my happiness, I
beg you never tempt me to repeat my folly. There is no other man, but now
you must know after what I have done, that there is one--yourself. But
there can be nothing but friendship between us, Baron Ned, and oh, that
is so much to me! Let me have what happiness I can find in it!"

"But I love you, Betty, and I know that you love me," I answered, unable
to restrain my tongue.

She did not speak, so I asked, "Do you not, Betty?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head dolefully. But I knew she did not
tell the truth.

Presently she asked. "Do you want to see Master Hamilton?"

I answered that I did, and she said I might go to the printing shop,
where she was sure I should find him.

She rose and started toward the door. I called to her, but she did not
stop, so I ran after her, saying:--

"Have I offended you, Betty?"

"No," she answered, drooping her head. "But I am very unhappy, and I want
to be alone so that I may cry. You know it is much harder to forego the
thing one wants but may not take, than it is to do without the thing one
wants but cannot take. Yearning for the impossible brings longing, for
the possible anguish."

And I remained silent, almost hating myself.

I went to the tap-room with Betty, and the courtyard being vacant for a
moment, I ran across and down the steps to see Hamilton.

I had tried to see Frances that morning at Whitehall, but failed, being
told that she had gone to visit her father. I had stopped at Sir
Richard's house, but Frances was not there, and I half suspected I might
find her with Hamilton.

I found Hamilton at his printing-press, and after I had told him of the
risk he ran by remaining in London, he said:--

"I have been making an honest living from my _News Letter_ and am sorry
to give it up, but I fear trouble will come very soon if I continue to
publish it. The king has a score of human bloodhounds seeking me. It is
rather odd, isn't it, to hear a man of the house of