l
marry you.'"

"My dear, I asked you to be my wife last night, and what I said then I
say again now. In any case, until you dismiss me, I consider myself
bound to you; but I tell you frankly that I should myself prefer that
you would marry me for both our sakes."

"How cold and correct you are, how clearly you realize the position in
which I am likely to be put, and in what a gentlemanlike way you
assure me that your honour will always keep you bound to me! That is a
weak thread, Arthur, in matters of the heart. Let Angela reappear as
my rival--would honour keep you to my side? Honour, forsooth! it is
like a nurse's bogey in the cupboard--it is a shibboleth men use to
frighten naughty women with, which for themselves is almost devoid of
meaning. Even in this light I can see your face flush at her name.
What chance shall I ever have against her?"

"Do not speak of her, Mildred; let her memory be dead between us. She
who belonged to me before God, and whom I believed in as I believe in
my God, she offered me the most deadly insult that a woman can offer
to a man she loves--she sold herself. What do I care what the price
was, whether it were money, or position, or convenience, or the
approbation of her surroundings? The result is the same. Never mention
her name to me again; I tell you that I hate her."

"What a tirade! There is warmth enough about you now. I shall be
careful how I touch on the subject again; but your very energy shows
that you are deceiving yourself. I wish I could hear you speak of me
like that, because then I should know you loved me. Oh! if she only
knew it--she has her revenge for all your bitter words. You are lashed
to her chariot-wheels, Arthur. You do _not_ hate her; on the contrary,
you still long to see her face; it is still your secret and most
cherished hope that you will meet her again either in this or another
world. You love her as much as ever. If she were dead, you could bear
it; but the sharpest sting of your suffering lies in the humiliating
sense that you are forced to worship a god you know to be false, and
to give your own pure love to a woman whom you see debased."

He put his hands to his face and groaned aloud.

"You are right," he said. "I would rather have known her dead than
know her as she is. But there is no reason why I should bore you with
all this."

"Arthur, you are nothing if not considerate, and I do not pretend that
this is a very pleasant conversation for me