not agree to that, Mary."

"Is all his life nothing, then? Do you know what love means with
him;--this love which he bears to you? Do you understand that it
is everything to him?--that from the first moment in which he
acknowledged to himself that his heart was set upon you, he could not
bring himself to set it upon any other thing for a moment? Perhaps
you have never understood this; have never perceived that he is so
much in earnest, that to him it is more than money, or land, or
health,--more than life itself;--that he so loves that he would
willingly give everything that he has for his love? Have you known
this?"

Clara would not answer these questions for a while. What if she had
known it all, was she therefore bound to sacrifice herself? Could it
be the duty of any woman to give herself to a man simply because a
man wanted her? That was the argument as it was put forward now by
Mary Belton.

"Dear, dearest Clara," said Mary Belton, stretching herself forward
from her chair, and putting out her thin, almost transparent, hand,
"I do not think that you have thought enough of this; or, perhaps,
you have not known it. But his love for you is as I say. To him it is
everything. It pervades every hour of every day, every corner in his
life! He knows nothing of anything else while he is in his present
state."

"He is very good;--more than good."

"He is very good."

"But I do not see that;--that-- Of course I know how disinterested he
is."

"Disinterested is a poor word. It insinuates that in such a matter
there could be a question of what people call interest."

"And I know, too, how much he honours me."

"Honour is a cold word. It is not honour, but love,--downright true,
honest love. I hope he does honour you. I believe you to be an
honest, true woman; and, as he knows you well, he probably does
honour you;--but I am speaking of love." Again Clara was silent. She
knew what should be her argument if she were determined to oppose her
cousin's pleadings; and she knew also,--she thought she knew,--that
she did intend to oppose them; but there was a coldness in the
argument to which she was averse. "You cannot be insensible to such
love as that!" said Mary, going on with the cause which she had in
hand.

"You say that he is fond of me."

"Fond of you! I have not used such trifling expressions as that."

"That he loves me."

"You know he loves you. Have you ever doubted a word that he has
spoken to you on