As his eyes fell upon her, he started and stood almost paralyzed, heeding neither her words nor her extended hand. It was not Gertrude he saw, but her ghost. "In Heaven's name what has happened to you?" he cried. "Have you been ill?" Gertrude tried to smile in feigned surprise at his surprise; but her muscles relaxed. Richard's words and looks reflected more vividly than any mirror the dejection of her person; and this, the misery of her soul. She felt herself growing faint. She staggered back to a sofa and sank down. Then Richard felt as if the room were revolving about him, and as if his throat were choked with imprecations,--as if his old erratic passion had again taken possession of him, like a mingled legion of devils and angels. It was through pity that his love returned. He went forward and dropped on his knees at Gertrude's feet. "Speak to me!" he cried, seizing her hands. "Are you unhappy? Is your heart broken? O Gertrude! what have you come to?" Gertrude drew her hands from his grasp and rose to her feet. "Get up, Richard," she said. "Don't talk so wildly. I'm not well. I'm very glad to see you. _You_ look well." "I've got my strength again,--and meanwhile you've been failing. You're unhappy, you're wretched! Don't say you're not, Gertrude: it's as plain as day. You're breaking your heart." "The same old Richard!" said Gertrude, trying to smile again. "Would that you were the same old Gertrude! Don't try to smile; you can't!" "I _shall_!" said Gertrude, desperately. "I'm going to be married, you know." "Yes, I know. I don't congratulate you." "I have not counted upon that honor, Richard. I shall have to do without it." "You'll have to do without a great many things!" cried Richard, horrified by what seemed to him her blind self-immolation. "I have all I ask," said Gertrude. "You haven't all _I_ ask then! You haven't all your friends ask." "My friends are very kind, but I marry to suit myself." "You've not suited yourself!" retorted the young man. "You've suited--God knows what!--your pride, your despair, your resentment." As he looked at her, the secret history of her weakness seemed to become plain to him, and he felt a mighty rage against the man who had taken a base advantage of it. "Gertrude!" he cried, "I entreat you to go back. It's not for my sake,--I'll give you up,--I'll go a thousand miles away, and never look at you again. It's for your own. In the name of your happiness, break with that man! Don't fling yourself away. Buy him off, if you consider yourself bound. Give him your money. That's all he wants."