re,--
quite sure that you are the only possible mistress of this house
during my tenure of it. If I am ever to live as other men do, and to
care about the things which other men care for, it must be as your
husband.'

'Pray,--pray do not say that.'

'Yes; I think that I have a right to say it,--and a right to expect that
you should believe me. I will not ask you to be my wife if you do not
love me. Not that I should fear aught for myself, but that you should
not be pressed to make a sacrifice of yourself because I am your
friend and cousin. But I think it is quite possible you might come to
love me,--unless your heart be absolutely given away elsewhere.'

'What am I to say?'

'We each of us know of what the other is thinking. If Paul Montague
has robbed me of my love?'

'Mr Montague has never said a word.'

'If he had, I think he would have wronged me. He met you in my house,
and I think must have known what my feelings were towards you.'

'But he never has.'

'We have been like brothers together,--one brother being very much older
than the other, indeed; or like father and son. I think he should
place his hopes elsewhere.'

'What am I to say? If he have such hope he has not told me. I think it
almost cruel that a girl should be asked in that way.'

'Hetta, I should not wish to be cruel to you. Of course I know the way
of the world in such matters. I have no right to ask you about Paul
Montague,--no right to expect an answer. But it is all the world to me.
You can understand that I should think you might learn to love even
me, if you loved no one else.' The tone of his voice was manly, and at
the same time full of entreaty. His eyes as he looked at her were
bright with love and anxiety. She not only believed him as to the tale
which he now told her; but she believed in him altogether. She knew
that he was a staff on which a woman might safely lean, trusting to it
for comfort and protection in life. In that moment she all but yielded
to him. Had he seized her in his arms and kissed her then, I think she
would have yielded. She did all but love him. She so regarded him that
had it been some other woman that he craved, she would have used every
art she knew to have backed his suit, and would have been ready to
swear that any woman was a fool who refused him. She almost hated
herself because she was unkind to one who so thoroughly deserved
kindness. As it was, she made him no answer, but continued to walk
besi