"Looking back, I cannot tell what possessed me--what mad infatuation, what wild folly had taken hold of me. Is it the same, I wonder, with all those who love--with all girls who surrender heart and judgment as I did? Yet I did not reply all at once. The step was such a grave and serious one, even to my inexperienced eyes, that I hesitated long before taking it. I must do him justice; I think that in those days Ulric Studleigh did love me very dearly indeed, better, perhaps, than he loved any one else; and that, for a Studleigh, is certainly saying great deal. He told me, over and over again, in most passionate words, that he loved me. He made me believe that I was the whole world to him. Then, when he still found that I was unwilling--oh! so unwilling--for this private marriage, he pretended to be hurt, to think that I did not care for him; and for ten long days he never came near me--ten long, dreary, terrible days. I can remember even now the misery of each of them--the hours that seemed to have no end--the nights without sleep. If we met in public, he passed me with a cold bow, and devoted himself to some one else. I went through all the tortures of jealousy, my face grew pale and thin. Ah! what I suffered! Then one evening he came to me and said: "'Estelle, have we had enough of this? I feel I can bear it no longer.' "'It is your fault,' I replied; 'you have kept away from me.' "'Is a man's heart made of wax, do you think? Kept away from you! If I had not done so I should have gone mad. Your love must be child's play, judging from the way in which you treat me. How could I bear to be near you, when you so coldly refused my prayer?' "We were standing behind a great cluster of trees, and the next moment he had clasped me in his arms, crying that I must be his. "'I shall be at Twickenham to-morrow,' he said; 'Estelle, I pray you to meet me there.' "And I, weak and miserable, promised him." CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE PUNISHMENT OF FOLLY. "'I cannot bear it,' said my lover to me," continued Lady Estelle, "when we met the next day on the green lawn at Twickenham. 'We Studleighs are just as mad in jealousy as we are in love. When I see you surrounded by the wealthiest and noblest in the land--men each of whom is more worthy of you a thousand times than I am--but no one else loves you one-half so well, I can bear it no longer, Estelle. I will stand by no longer to see you loved, admired, and sought by other men. I will go away, and never return to this hateful land again.' "'What can I do, Ulric?' I asked. 'I cannot help it--I do not ask people to admire me.' "'You can do one thing, if you will,' he said; 'you can set my heart at rest; you can consent to what I ask--a private marriage; that will make you mine, and it will not be in the power of any human being to take you from me. It will set my heart at rest, and I shall know, no matter who admires you, that you are mine. If you will not consent to this, I must go.'