he has! How majestic and graceful all her
attitudes were! She thinks she has baffled me now. We will try
something more, and bid a higher price." He unfolded his arms, and
began to follow her. He gained upon her, for her beautiful walk was
now wavering and unsteady. The works which had kept her in motion
were running down fast.

"Ruth!" said he, overtaking her. "You shall hear me once more.
Aye, look round! Your fisherman is near. He may hear me, if he
chooses--hear your triumph. I am come to offer to marry you, Ruth;
come what may, I will have you. Nay--I will make you hear me. I will
hold this hand till you have heard me. To-morrow I will speak to
any one in Eccleston you like--to Mr Bradshaw; Mr ----, the little
minister, I mean. We can make it worth while for him to keep our
secret, and no one else need know but what you are really Mrs
Denbigh. Leonard shall still bear this name, but in all things else
he shall be treated as my son. He and you would grace any situation.
I will take care the highest paths are open to him!"

He looked to see the lovely face brighten into sudden joy; on the
contrary, the head was still hung down with a heavy droop.

"I cannot," said she; her voice was very faint and low.

"It is sudden for you, my dearest. But be calm. It will all be easily
managed. Leave it to me."

"I cannot," repeated she, more distinct and clear, though still very
low.

"Why! what on earth makes you say that?" asked he, in a mood to be
irritated by any repetition of such words.

"I do not love you. I did once. Don't say I did not love you then;
but I do not now. I could never love you again. All you have said
and done since you came with Mr Bradshaw to Abermouth first, has
only made me wonder how I ever could have loved you. We are very far
apart. The time that has pressed down my life like brands of hot
iron, and scarred me for ever, has been nothing to you. You have
talked of it with no sound of moaning in your voice--no shadow over
the brightness of your face; it has left no sense of sin on your
conscience, while me it haunts and haunts; and yet I might plead that
I was an ignorant child--only I will not plead anything, for God
knows all-- But this is only one piece of our great difference--"

"You mean that I am no saint," he said, impatient at her speech.
"Granted. But people who are no saints have made very good
husbands before now. Come, don't let any morbid, overstrained
conscientiousness interfe