and
you yourself know it. In all these weeks we have been together we have
begun to know each other, we have been companions, and--and you have
many a time cheered me when I felt in blank despair."

"I am very pleased if I have been able to bring you happiness," she
replied. "It is sometimes difficult to infuse gaiety into a sick-room."

"But you have brought me new life, new hope, new light into my dull,
careworn life," he declared quickly. "Since I found you at my bedside I
have become a different man."

"How?" she asked, very seriously.

"You have inspired in me new hopes, new aspirations--and a fresh
ambition."

"Of what?"

He raised her ungloved hand and kissed it fervently.

She tried to snatch it away, but he held it fast, and, looking into her
dark, startled eyes, replied:

"Of making you my wife, Jean."

"Your wife!" she gasped, her face pale in an instant, as she drew back,
astounded at the suggestion.

"Yes. Listen to me!" he cried, quickly, still holding her hand, and
drawing her to him as he stepped into the huge room upholstered with
pale blue silk. "This is no sudden fancy on my part, Jean. I have
watched you--watched you for days and weeks--for gradually I came to
know how deeply attached I had become to you--that I love you!"

"No, no!" she exclaimed. "Let me go, please, Lord Bracondale! This is
madness. I refuse to hear you. Reflect--and you will see that I can
never become your wife!"

And upon her sweet face there spread a hard, pained expression.

"But I repeat, Jean--I swear it--I love you!" he said. "I again repeat
my question--Will you honour me by becoming my wife? Can you ever love
me sufficiently to sacrifice yourself? And will you try and love
me--will you----"

"I cannot bear it!" she cried, struggling to free herself from his
strong embrace, while he held her hand and again passionately raised it
to his lips. "Please recall those words. They are injudicious, to say
the least."

"I have spoken the plain truth. I love you!"

Her eyes were downcast. She stood against a large, silk-covered settee,
her hand touching the silken covering, her chest heaving and falling in
deep emotion, so unprepared had she been for the Earl's declaration of
affection.

Through her mind, however, one thought ran--the difference in their
social status; he--a Cabinet Minister; and she--the widow of a thief!

Recollection of that hideous chapter of her life flashed upon her, and
she shuddered