ted, but still love. The wild cat,
if there, was all within, still hidden from sight. Paul stood with his
hands on the back of a chair, propping himself up and trying to find
fitting words for the occasion. 'Stop, my dear,' she said. 'Must the
purpose be told to-night?'

'Why not to-night?'

'Paul, I am not well;--I am weak now. I am a coward. You do not know the
delight to me of having a few words of pleasant talk to an old friend
after the desolation of the last weeks. Mrs Pipkin is not very
charming. Even her baby cannot supply all the social wants of my life.
I had intended that everything should be sweet to-night. Oh, Paul, if
it was your purpose to tell me of your love, to assure me that you are
still my dear, dear friend, to speak with hope of future days, or with
pleasure of those that are past,--then carry out your purpose. But if it
be cruel, or harsh, or painful; if you had come to speak daggers;--then
drop your purpose for to-night. Try and think what my solitude must
have been to me, and let me have one hour of comfort.'

Of course he was conquered for that night, and could only have that
solace which a most injurious reprieve could give him. 'I will not
harass you, if you are ill,' he said.

'I am ill. It was because I was afraid that I should be really ill
that I went to Southend. The weather is hot, though of course the sun
here is not as we have it. But the air is heavy,--what Mrs Pipkin calls
muggy. I was thinking if I were to go somewhere for a week, it would
do me good. Where had I better go?' Paul suggested Brighton. 'That is
full of people; is it not?--a fashionable place?'

'Not at this time of the year.'

'But it is a big place. I want some little place that would be pretty.
You could take me down; could you not? Not very far, you know;--not that
any place can be very far from here.' Paul, in his John Bull
displeasure, suggested Penzance, telling her, untruly, that it would
take twenty-four hours. 'Not Penzance then, which I know is your very
Ultima Thule;--not Penzance, nor yet Orkney. Is there no other place
except Southend?'

'There is Cromer in Norfolk,--perhaps ten hours.'

'Is Cromer by the sea?'

'Yes;--what we call the sea.'

'I mean really the sea, Paul?'

'If you start from Cromer right away, a hundred miles would perhaps
take you across to Holland. A ditch of that kind wouldn't do perhaps.'

'Ah,--now I see you are laughing at me. Is Cromer pretty?'

'Well, yes;--I thi