cause he has your love.
Respect him, when he has stolen from me the thing that I value more than
my life! You do not know what you say."

She still wept, and presently he sat down beside her and leaned his head
on his hand, looking at her from out of the shadow made by his bent
fingers above his eyes.

"Let me understand matters clearly," he said. "You sent him away, and he
has gone to America, never to return. Is that it? And you will marry me,
although you do not love me, because you have promised to do so, if I
ask you? What do you expect me to say?"

She shook her head. She could not speak.

"I am not generous," he went on deliberately. "You have known me long
enough to be aware that I am a very selfish man. I will not give you up
to Stretton. He is not the right husband for you. He is a man whom you
picked up in the streets, without a character, without antecedents, with
a history which he dares not tell. So much I gathered from my father. I
say nothing about his behaviour in this case; he may have acted well, or
he may have acted badly; I have no opinion to give. But you shall never
be his wife."

Elizabeth's tears were dried as if by magic. She sat erect, listening
with set lips and startled eyes to the fierce energy of his tones.

"I accept your sacrifice," he said. "You will thank me in the end that I
did so. No, I do not release you from your engagement, Elizabeth. You
have said that you would keep your word, and I hold you to it."

He drew her to him with his arm, and kissed her cheek with passionate
determination. She shrank away, but he would not let her go.

"No," he proceeded, "you are my promised wife, Elizabeth. I have no
intention of giving you up for Stretton or anybody else. I love you more
than ever now that I see how brave and honest you can be. We will have
no more concealments. When we go back to the house we will tell all the
world of our engagement. It was the secrecy that worked this mischief."

She wrenched herself away from him with a look of mingled pain and
anger. "Percival!" she cried, "do you want to make me hate you?"

"I would rather have hate than indifference," he answered. "And whether
you hate me or not, Elizabeth, you shall be my wife before the year is
out. I shall not let you go."

CHAPTER XXVII.

PERCIVAL'S OWN WAY.

Percival had his way. He came back to the house looking stern and grim,
but with a resolute determination to carry his point. In half-an-hou