a
friend. You will not take money from my hand?"
"No, Madame Goesler;--I cannot do that."
"Take the hand then first. When it and all that it holds are your
own, you can help yourself as you list." So saying, she stood before
him with her right hand stretched out towards him.
What man will say that he would not have been tempted? Or what woman
will declare that such temptation should have had no force? The very
air of the room in which she dwelt was sweet in his nostrils, and
there hovered around her an halo of grace and beauty which greeted
all his senses. She invited him to join his lot to hers, in order
that she might give to him all that was needed to make his life rich
and glorious. How would the Ratlers and the Bonteens envy him when
they heard of the prize which had become his! The Cantrips and the
Greshams would feel that he was a friend doubly valuable, if he could
be won back; and Mr. Monk would greet him as a fitting ally,--an ally
strong with the strength which he had before wanted. With whom would
he not be equal? Whom need he fear? Who would not praise him? The
story of his poor Mary would be known only in a small village, out
beyond the Channel. The temptation certainly was very strong.
But he had not a moment in which to doubt. She was standing there
with her face turned from him, but with her hand still stretched
towards him. Of course he took it. What man so placed could do other
than take a woman's hand?
"My friend," he said.
"I will be called friend by you no more," she said. "You must call me
Marie, your own Marie, or you must never call me by any name again.
Which shall it be, sir?" He paused a moment, holding her hand, and
she let it lie there for an instant while she listened. But still she
did not look at him. "Speak to me! Tell me! Which shall it be?" Still
he paused. "Speak to me. Tell me!" she said again.
"It cannot be as you have hinted to me," he said at last. His words
did not come louder than a low whisper; but they were plainly heard,
and instantly the hand was withdrawn.
"Cannot be!" she exclaimed. "Then I have betrayed myself."
"No;--Madame Goesler."
"Sir; I say yes! If you will allow me I will leave you. You will, I
know, excuse me if I am abrupt to you." Then she strode out of the
room, and was no more seen of the eyes of Phineas Finn.
He never afterwards knew how he escaped out of that room and found
his way into Park Lane. In after days he had some memory th
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