"I own that the world looks askance on such a man, and very properly too. It is a base, cowardly thing to do. What other course is left me? You drive me to it: I have no wish to play such a contemptible part; I have no wish to boast of a victory--I shall hate myself for doing it; but what else is there for it? Listen, once and for all. Dora--I cannot help calling you by the old familiar name--I will have you for my wife: I will marry you; nothing, I swear, except death, shall take you from me. I will make you happy, I will see that every desire of your heart is fulfilled; but I swear you shall be my wife. There is no escape--no alternative; either that or disgrace, degradation, and ruin. Do not think I shall hesitate from any fear of ruin to myself; I would ruin myself to-morrow to win you. You might as well try to stem the force of a tide as to alter my determination." She saw that she was conquered; mortifying, humiliating as it was, she was conquered--there was no help for her. She stood quite still for one moment; then she said slowly: "Will you give me time?" His face flushed hotly; his triumph was coming. A smile played round his lips and brightened his eyes. "Time? Yes; you can have as much time as you like. You see the solution plainly, do you not? Marry me, and keep your fair name, your high position; defy me, and lose it all. You see it plainly?" "Yes, there is no mistake about it--you have made it most perfectly plain," she said, in a low, passionless voice. "I quite understand you. Give me time to think it over--I cannot decide it hurriedly." "What time do you require?" he asked. "I shall not be willing to wait very long." "It is June now," she continued; "you cannot complain if I say give me until the end of August." "It shall be so, Dora. Will you give me your hand upon it?" "No," she replied, "I will not give you my hand. Come at the end of August, and I will give you your answer." "I shall not be deprived of the happiness of seeing you until then, Dora?" "I cannot say; I will not be followed, I will not be watched. I claim my perfect freedom until then." "You shall have it. Do not think worse of me than I deserve, Dora. If I had found you married, I would not have spoken, I would never even have hinted at the discovery; but you are not married, darling, nor, while I live, shall any man call you wife except myself." How bitterly at that moment she regretted not having been married! If she had known--if she had only known, he should have found her the wife of Earle! "I have no wish to injure you, or to do anything except make life pleasant for you; but my love for you has mastered me, it has conquered me. You must be mine!" Such passion shone in his eyes, gleamed in his face, that she shrunk back half frightened. He laughed, as he said: "It is one thing, you see, Dora, to light a fire, another to extinguish it."