; that is why I say, settle something, and don't think
about it any more."

"How can you be so absurd!" she answered, leaning her head back against
the chair, and averting her soft, flushed face as far from me as she
could, so successfully that there was little view of anything except
the white throat and under-part of her chin as she strained her head
back from me.

"Please let things go on as they are."

The words were a positive entreaty, but they fell upon ground where
passion had blocked access to any of the tenderer, impersonal feelings.
I only felt a rage of impatience as I heard her.

"No, dearest," I said very gently; "that is just what they cannot do;"
and I looked at the swelling neck with the faint blue veins visible in
its transparency, and thought, "You must be my own, or I must cease to
see you, otherwise I shall strangle you."

"I cannot stand this sort of thing any longer. Not even for you, Lucia,
can I run the risk of losing the little brains I possess, which is
extremely likely to happen if I let things, as you say, go on as they
are."

"Why?" she said, fretfully, turning her head from side to side. "What
do I do to you?"

I did not answer this, but I raised myself so that I could look into
her face, and our eyes met. She flushed crimson, and did not repeat the
question.

"You will kill me if you worry me like this!" she said, evasively, and
she did actually look very ill at the moment.

"My sweet, why do you not trust me with the cause of all this
hesitation? Are you afraid of me, or do you misunderstand me? Lucia,
the woman I have once loved is the woman I must always love. Whatever
had happened, whatever she had done, whatever I had heard of her or
from her, I should love her still. Has anything occurred since you were
with me in Paris that you are afraid to tell me of? Has anyone else
come between us? If so, tell me. I shall understand everything. If
there is anything to forgive, I will forgive everything. I swear there
is nothing that can make any difference to my love for you."

Lucia looked me steadily in the face now. A contemptuous smile curved
her lips, all the confusion died out of her eyes, and they filled with
a limitless arrogance and self-reliance. I had my answer in her face.
It was the face of a woman whose virtue is absolutely invulnerable, and
whose honour is unshadowed, and who has suffered too acutely in the
maintenance of both to hear the faintest hint of weakness wi