ared to dream, my dreams are at an end now, when you have shown me so
plainly----' He stopped and turned aside his face, but no words could
have been so eloquent as that silence.

'Mr. Blake, will you let me say something? I am grieved, grieved to the
heart, that this should have happened. If I could have prevented it, not
a word of all this should have been spoken; but it is too late to say so
now.'

'Far, far too late!'

'So we must make the best of it. I must try to forget all that has
passed, and, Mr. Blake, you must promise me to do the same.'

'I have promised,' he returned proudly. 'I promised you of my own accord
that I would never talk to you in this way again; but you must not ask
anything more of me.'

'May I not?' in rather a faltering voice.

'It would be useless,' he replied quickly. 'I can never leave off loving
you. I would part with my life first. I think I am not one of those men
who could ever love twice. I am young, still something tells me this;
but all the same you have nothing to fear from me. I know your position
and mine.'

'You must not speak as though we were not equal,' she said, in her
desire to comfort him and raise him up from his despondency; 'it is not
that. What does one's poverty or wealth matter?'

'No, it is not that,' he answered, with a significance that made her
lower her eyes; 'in one sense we are equals, for one cannot be more or
less than a gentleman, and when one has youth and strength, and a
moderate amount of talents, one can always raise one's self to the level
of the woman one loves. And if I had thought that you could ever have
cared for me----' His voice trembled; he could not proceed.

'Mr. Blake, I must beg, I do entreat you to say no more.' Audrey's lips
were quivering; she looked quite pale. At that moment she could bear no
more.

'Forgive me,' he said remorsefully. 'I was thinking more of myself than
you. I am trying you too much.'

She could not deny this, but with her usual unselfishness she strove
again for some comforting word.

'It will be as though you had not spoken,' she said, in so low a voice
that he had to stoop to hear her. 'It will be sacred, quite sacred; do
not let it spoil everything--we--I have been so happy; let us try to
remain good friends.'

'I will try my best, but it will be very hard.' Perhaps, if she had seen
his face that moment, she would have known that what she asked was
impossible. How could he be friends with this girl