mer--and that _could_ not be love--married life might have
engendered affection. He knew Adela to be deeply conscientious; how far
was it in a woman's power to subdue herself to love at the bidding of
duty?

He allowed several moments to pass before replying to her. Then he said,
courteously but coldly:

'I am very sorry that you have asked the one thing I cannot do.'

Adela's heart sank. In putting a distance between him and herself she
had obeyed an instinct of self-preservation; now that it was effected,
the change in his voice was almost more than she could bear.

'Why do you refuse?' she asked, trying, though in vain, to look up at
him.

'Because it is impossible for me to pretend sympathy with Mr. Mutimer's
views. In the moment that I heard of the will my action with regard to
New Wanley was determined. What I purpose doing is so inevitably the
result of my strongest convictions that nothing could change me.

'Will you tell me what you are going to do?' Adela asked, in a tone more
like his own.

'It will pain You.'

'Yet I should like to know.'

'I shall sweep away every trace of the mines and the works and the
houses, and do my utmost to restore the valley to its former state.'

He paused, but Adela said nothing. Her fingers played with the leaves
which grew beside her.

'Your associations with Wanley of course cannot be as strong as my own.
I was born here, and every dearest memory of my life connects itself
with the valley as it used to be. It was one of the loveliest spots to
be found in England. You can have no idea of the feelings with which I
saw this change fall upon it, this desolation and defilement--I must use
the words which come to me. I might have overcome that grief if I had
sympathised with the ends. But, as it is, I should act in the same way
even if I had no such memories. I know all that you will urge. It may
be inevitable that the green and beautiful spots of the world shall give
place to furnaces and mechanics' dwellings. For my own part, in this
little corner, at all events, the rum shall be delayed. In this matter
I will give my instincts free play. Of New Wanley not one brick shall
remain on another. I will close the mines, and grass shall again grow
over them; I will replant the orchards and mark out the fields as they
were before.'

He paused again.

'You see why I cannot do what you ask.'

It was said in a gentler voice, for insensibly his tone had become
almost veheme