his brother of mine, who stole you from me, and
then has left you desolate?"

"No, no; do not say that; it was never his fault at all, only mine; and
he was always bound to her. He has been everything that is good and loyal
and true to you and to her; it has been only a miserable mistake, and now
it is over. Yes, thank God, it is over; never speak of it again. He was
never false to you; only I was false. But it is ended."

They were walking round Belgrave Square by this time, not near the
houses, but round the square garden in the middle. All recollection of
his brother's marriage, of the wedding breakfast at Walpole Lodge, of the
speech the best man would be expected to make, had gone clean out of his
head; he thought of nothing but Vera and of the revelation concerning her
that had just come to him. It was the quiet hour of the day; there were
very few people about; everybody was indoors eating heavy luncheons,
with sunblinds drawn down to keep out the heat. They were almost as much
alone as in a country lane in Meadowshire.

"What are you going to do with yourself?" he said to her, presently.
"What use are you going to make of your life?"

"I don't know," she answered, drearily; "I suppose I shall go back to
Sutton. Perhaps I shall marry."

"But not me?"

She looked up at him piteously.

"Listen, child," he said, eagerly. "If I were to go away for a year, and
then come back to you, how would it be? Oh, my darling! I love you so
deeply that I could even be content to do with but half your heart, so
that I could win your sweet self. I would exact nothing from you, love,
no more than what you could give me freely. But I would love you so well,
and make your life so sweet and pleasant to you, that in time, perhaps,
you would forget the old sorrow, and learn to be happy, with a quiet kind
of happiness, with me; I would ask for no more. Look, child, I have
grieved sorely for you; I have sat down and wept, and mourned for you as
though I had no strength or life left in me. But now I am ashamed of my
weakness, for it is unworthy of _you_. I am going away abroad, across the
world, I care not where, so long as I can be up and doing, and forget the
pain at my heart. Vera, tell me that I may come back to you in a year.
Think with what fresh life and courage I should go if I had but that hope
before my eyes. In a year's time your pain will be less; you will have
forgotten many things; you will be content, perhaps, to come