unciation of certain words, made his appeal the more pathetic. With
the quickness of jealousy, he had guessed at the meaning there might lie
in Emily's reluctance to hear him, but he dared not entertain the
thought; it was his passionate instinct to plead it down. Whatever it
might be that she had in mind, she must first hear him. As he spoke, he
watched her features with the eagerness of desire, of fear; to do so was
but to inflame his passion. It was an extraordinary struggle between the
force of violent appetite and the constraint of love in the higher
sense. How the former had been excited, it would be hard to explain.
Wilfrid Athel had submitted to the same influence. Her beauty was of the
kind which, leaving the ordinary man untouched, addressed itself with
the strangest potency to an especially vehement nature here and there.
Her mind, uttering itself in the simplest phrases, laid a spell upon
certain other minds set apart and chosen. She could not speak but the
soul of this rude mill-owner was exalted beyond his own intelligence.

Forced to wait the end of his speech, Emily stood with her head bowed in
sadness. Fear had passed; she recognised the heart-breaking sincerity of
his words, and compassionated him. When he became silent, she could not
readily reply. He was speaking again, below his breath.

'You are thinking? I know how you can't help regarding me. Try only to
feel for me.'

'There is only one way in which I can answer you,' she said; 'I owe it
to you to hide nothing. I feel deeply the sincerity of all you have
said, and be sure, Mr. Dagworthy, that I will never think of you
unjustly or unkindly. But I can promise nothing more; I have already
given my love.'

Her voice faltered before the last word, the word she would never
lightly utter. But it must be spoken now; no paraphrase would confirm
her earnestness sufficiently.

Still keeping her eyes on the ground, she knew that he had started.

'You have promised to marry some one?' he asked, as if it were necessary
to have the fact affirmed in the plainest words before he could accept
it.

She hoped that silence might be her answer.

'Have you? Do you mean that?'

'I have.'

She saw that he was turning away from her, and with an effort she looked
at him. She wished she had not; his anguish expressed itself like an
evil passion; his teeth were set with a cruel savageness. It was worse
when he caught her look and tried to smile.

'Then I suppo