and yet not tell a lie. He had made up his mind to break his
engagement before he had seen Hetta Carbury, and therefore he could
not accuse himself of falseness on her account. He had been brought to
his resolution by the rumours he had heard of her past life, and as to
his uncertainty about her husband. If Mr Hurtle were alive, certainly
then he would not be a liar because he did not marry Mrs Hurtle. He
did not think himself to be a liar, but he was not at once ready with
his defence. 'Oh, Paul,' she said, changing at once into softness,--'I
am pleading to you for my life. Oh, that I could make you feel that I
am pleading for my life. Have you given a promise to this lady also?'

'No,' said he. 'I have given no promise.'

'But she loves you?'

'She has never said so.'

'You have told her of your love?'

'Never.'

'There is nothing, then, between you? And you would put her against
me,--some woman who has nothing to suffer, no cause of complaint,
who, for aught you know, cares nothing for you. Is that so?'

'I suppose it is,' said Paul.

'Then you may still be mine. Oh, Paul, come back to me. Will any woman
love you as I do,--live for you as I do? Think what I have done in
coming here, where I have no friend,--not a single friend,--unless you are
a friend. Listen to me. I have told the woman here that I am engaged
to marry you.'

'You have told the woman of the house?'

'Certainly I have. Was I not justified? Were you not engaged to me? Am
I to have you to visit me here, and to risk her insults, perhaps to be
told to take myself off and to find accommodation elsewhere, because I
am too mealy-mouthed to tell the truth as to the cause of my being
here? I am here because you have promised to make me your wife, and,
as far as I am concerned, I am not ashamed to have the fact advertised
in every newspaper in the town. I told her that I was the promised
wife of one Paul Montague, who was joined with Mr Melmotte in managing
the new great American railway, and that Mr Paul Montague would be
with me this morning. She was too far-seeing to doubt me, but had she
doubted, I could have shown her your letters. Now go and tell her that
what I have said is false,--if you dare.' The woman was not there, and
it did not seem to be his immediate duty to leave the room in order
that he might denounce a lady whom he certainly had ill-used. The
position was one which required thought. After a while he took up his
hat to go. 'Do