she rose from her chair and
came towards him, trembling--"Do you mean--do you really mean that all
is over between us?--that you will not marry me?"

He looked at her straightly.

"I cannot!" he said--"Not if I am true to myself as a man!"

"You cannot be true to _me_, as a woman?"

He caught her in his arms and held her there.

"Yes--I can be so true to you, Mary, that as long as I live I shall love
you! No other woman shall ever rest on my heart--here--thus--as you are
resting now! I will never kiss another woman's lips as I kiss yours
now!" And he kissed her again and again--"But, at the same time, I will
never live upon your wealth like a beggar on the bounty of a queen! I
will never accept a penny at your hands! I will go away and work--and
if possible, will make the fame I have dreamed of--but I will never
marry you, Mary--never! That can never be!" He clasped her more closely
and tenderly in his arms--"Don't--don't cry, dear! You are tired with
your long journey--and--and--with all the excitement and trouble. Lie
down and rest awhile--and--don't--don't worry about me! You deserve your
fortune--you will be happy with it by and by, when you find out how much
it can do for you, and what pleasures you can have with it--and life
will be very bright for you--I'm sure it will! Mary--don't cling to me,
darling!--it--it unmans me!--and I must be strong--strong for your sake
and my own"--here he gently detached her arms from about his
neck--"Good-bye, dear!--you must--you must let me go!--God bless you!"

As in a dream she felt him put her away from his embrace--the cottage
door opened and closed--he was gone.

Vaguely she looked about her. There was a great sickness at her
heart--her eyes ached, and her brain was giddy. She was tired,--very
tired--and hardly knowing what she did, she crept like a beaten and
wounded animal into the room which had formerly been her own, but which
she had so long cheerfully resigned for Helmsley's occupation and better
comfort,--and there she threw herself upon the bed where he had died,
and lay for a long time in a kind of waking stupor.

"Oh, dear God, help me!" she prayed--"Help me to bear it! It is so
hard--so hard!--to have won the greatest joy that life can give--and
then--to lose it all!"

She closed her eyes,--they were hot and burning, and now no tears
relieved the pressure on her brain. By and by she fell into a heavy
slumber. As the afternoon wore slowly away, Mrs. Twitt