When you are once my wife I will teach you to care for me. Such love as
mine must create a return."

"You think that now; you feel sure of it. But suppose you failed! No
drawing back. It is too dangerous an experiment."

"I defy the danger. I will not believe that it exists; and even if it
did--still I should have you."

"Yes, that is just it," she says, wearily. "But how would it be with me?
I should have you, too, but--" Her pause is full of eloquence.

"Try to trust me," he says, in a rather disheartened tone. He is feeling
suddenly cast down and dispirited, in spite of his determination to be
cool and brave, and to win her against all odds.

To this she says nothing, and silence falls upon them. Her eyes are on
the ground; her face is grave and thoughtful. Watching her with deepest
anxiety, he tells himself that perhaps after all he may still be
victor--that his fears a moment since were groundless. Is she not
content to be with him? Her face--how sweet, how calm it is! She is
thinking, it may be, of him, of what he has said, of his great and
lasting love for her, of--

"I wonder whom Roger will marry now," she says, dreamily, breaking in
cruelly upon his fond reverie, and dashing to pieces by this speech all
the pretty Spanish castles he has been building in mid-air.

"Can you think of nothing but him?" he says, bitterly, with a quick
frown.

"Why should I not think of him?" says Dulce, quite as bitterly. "Is it
not natural? An hour ago I looked upon him as my future husband; now he
is less to me than nothing! A sudden transition, is it not, from one
character to another? _Then_ a possible husband, _now_ a stranger! It is
surely something to let one's mind dwell upon."

"Well, let us discuss him, then," exclaims he, savagely. "You speak of
his marrying. Perhaps he will bestow his priceless charms on Portia."

"Oh, no!" hastily; "Portia is quite unsuited to him."

"Julia, then?"

"Certainly not _Julia_," disdainfully.

"Miss Vernon, then? She has position and money and so-called beauty."

"Maud Vernon! what an absurd idea; he would be wretched with her."

"Then," with a last remnant of patience, "let us say Lilian Langdale."

"A fast, horsey, unladylike girl like that! How could you imagine Roger
would even _look_ at her! Nonsense!"

"It seems to me," says Stephen, with extreme acrimony, "that no one in
this county is good enough for Roger; even you, it appears, fell short."

"I did not," indign