as though he was the master of the
occasion. But during those moments his mind was wracked with doubt.
What if he should take her at her word? Some few would say bitter
things against him, but such bitter things had been said against many
another man without harming him. Would it not be well for both if he
should take her at her word? She would recover and love again, as
other girls had done; and as for him, he would thus escape from the
ruin at which he had been gazing for the last week past. For it was
ruin,--utter ruin. He did love her; so he declared to himself. But
was he a man who ought to throw the world away for love? Such men
there were; but was he one of them? Could he be happy in that small
house, somewhere near the New Road, with five children and horrid
misgivings as to the baker's bill? Of all men living, was not he the
last that should have allowed himself to fall into such a trap? All
this passed through his mind as he turned his face up to the clouds
with a look that was intended to be grand and noble.

"Speak to me, Adolphus, and say that it shall be so."

Then his heart misgave him, and he lacked the courage to extricate
himself from his trouble; or, as he afterwards said to himself, he
had not the heart to do it. "If I understand you, rightly, Lily, all
this comes from no want of love on your own part?"

"Want of love on my part? But you should not ask me that."

"Until you tell me that there is such a want, I will agree to no
parting." Then he took her hand and put it within his arm. "No,
Lily; whatever may be our cares and troubles, we are bound
together,--indissolubly."

"Are we?" said she; and as she spoke, her voice trembled, and her
hand shook.

"Much too firmly for any such divorce as that. No, Lily, I claim the
right to tell you all my troubles; but I shall not let you go."

"But, Adolphus--" and the hand on his arm was beginning to cling to
it again.

"Adolphus," said he, "has got nothing more to say on that subject. He
exercises the right which he believes to be his own, and chooses to
retain the prize which he has won."

She was now clinging to him in very truth. "Oh, my love!" she said.
"I do not know how to say it again. It is of you that I am
thinking;--of you, of you!"

"I know you are; but you have misunderstood me a little; that's all."

"Have I? Then listen to me again, once more, my heart's own darling,
my love, my husband, my lord! If I cannot be to you at once like