"No, I will not go to Sir Thomas. She rejected me and she has accepted Pomeroy. Let her abide by her choice. Having kept the secret so long, I will keep it a little while longer. Let her find out, when no remedy can avail, that this man sought her for her money alone--that money which belongs to another. Had she been the beggar's daughter of Bethnal Green, I would have made her my wife." He had spoken passionately, and he now got up and walked to the window, and stood I gazing out of it, as if to hide his emotion. He had half emptied his glass of Burgundy when he first sat down. Olive now filled it up, while he stood thus with his back towards her, and then, quickly and deftly, from a little phial which she extracted from the bosom of her dress, she let fall into the wine three drops of some thick, dark tincture. Very white, but very determined, was the face that was turned next moment on Mr. Kelvin. "You have scarcely tasted anything. Are you not going to finish your cutlet?" "No," he said, as he turned from the window. "My appetite has gone. I can't eat." "You will, at least, drink this glass of wine. If you cannot eat, you must drink." She took up the glass of Burgundy as she spoke, and handed it to him with a hand that was as steady as his own. He took it without a word, and drank it slowly to the last drop. Then he gave her back the glass, making a slight grimace as he did so. "Either my palate is out of order," he said, "or else Sir Thomas's wine merchant is a vendor of rubbish." Then he added, "I promised that I would give Sir Thomas another look in before I went back, but I'll go first and have a weed in the shrubbery. A quarter of an hour in the fresh air will bring me down to my ordinary business level." "I shall want to see you again before you go," said Olive. "I have a tiny parcel for you to take to my aunt." Her heart was fluttering so fast, that she was obliged to press one hand over it in an effort to still its wild beating. "All right. I'll look in again for a minute before starting," said Mr. Kelvin, as he took up his hat. He was just about to open the door, when Olive, whose eyes had been anxiously following him, saw him stagger slightly, and lift his hand to his head. She was by his side in a moment. "What is it, Matthew? Are you not well?" "It was nothing. Only a sudden giddiness. I shall be better when I get into the fresh air." Then he opened the door and went out. Olive went to the window, from which place the side-door could be seen by which her cousin would gain access to the grounds Even her lips seemed to have lost their colour this afternoon. She stood there, rubbing one thin white hand against the other, with a slow, restless motion, as though that were the only outlet she could find for the intense life burning within her.