may not speak of it." Then he got
up from his chair, and as he walked about the room he took his
handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes.

"I wish I could comfort you," said she. And in saying so she spoke
the truth. By nature she was not tender hearted, but now she did
sympathise with him. By nature, too, she was not given to any deep
affection, but she did feel some spark of love for Lucius Mason. "I
wish I could comfort you." And as she spoke she also got up from her
chair.

"And you can," said he, suddenly stopping himself and coming close to
her. "You can comfort me,--in some degree. You and you only can do
so. I know this is no time for declarations of love. Were it not that
we are already so much to each other, I would not indulge myself at
such a moment with such a wish. But I have no one whom I can love;
and--it is very hard to bear." And then he stood, waiting for her
answer, as though he conceived that he had offered her his hand.

But Miss Furnival well knew that she had received no offer. "If my
warmest sympathy can be of service to you--"

"It is your love I want," he said, taking her hand as he spoke. "Your
love, so that I may look on you as my wife;--your acceptance of my
love, so that we may be all in all to each other. There is my hand.
I stand before you now as sad a man as there is in all London. But
there is my hand--will you take it and give me yours in pledge of
your love."

I should be unjust to Lucius Mason were I to omit to say that he
played his part with a becoming air. Unhappiness and a melancholy
mood suited him perhaps better than the world's ordinary good-humour.
He was a man who looked his best when under a cloud, and shone the
brightest when everything about him was dark. And Sophia also was not
unequal to the occasion. There was, however, this difference between
them. Lucius was quite honest in all that he said and did upon the
occasion; whereas Miss Furnival was only half honest. Perhaps she was
not capable of a higher pitch of honesty than that.

"There is my hand," said she; and they stood holding each other, palm
to palm.

"And with it your heart?" said Lucius.

"And with it my heart," answered Sophia. Nor as she spoke did she
hesitate for a moment, or become embarrassed, or lose her command
of feature. Had Augustus Staveley gone through the same ceremony at
Noningsby in the same way I am inclined to think that she would have
made the same answer. Had neither do