"This," she replied passionately, "that my feelings threaten to upset your scheme--that is what I complain of. If this marriage were one of cold calculation, if I had but to play my _rôle_ of adventuress, and marry your nephew, perhaps I could do it, and perhaps from a sense of duty I could make him a better wife than Miss Marsh is likely to do. But I----" She paused, and dropped her voice to a lower tone. "But I already have a--a very sincere regard for Mr. Arkel." "All the better; it will be so much the easier for you to carry out your part of the bargain." "No," Miriam rose grandly. "As an instrument for the sake of Jabez, I was willing to be used, but as a woman--a woman who feels, who, as I tell you, already has a feeling of respect, of regard, of----No, Mr. Barton, I will not consent to marry him, unless--unless, perchance, things should come about differently." "What about Jabez then, and his new life in America?" Miriam's head sank, and she clasped her hands together with a gesture of pain. "I don't know--I must think--I must consider myself as well as Jabez. He has brought me low enough as it is without my sacrificing my last shred of womanly pride for his sake--anything but that. I would do much for him. Yes, I may as well confess it, I love Mr. Arkel; whatever you may think of me, I love him. I suppose it is because you are such a stone--because I hardly look upon you as flesh and blood--that I can bring myself to say this to you. But it is true, true. You cannot understand the birth of such a feeling in a woman's heart. But she knows it, and cannot mistake it. I love Gerald Arkel. But I would not marry him unless he loved me--no, not for thousands! That is why I say I wish to leave, Mr. Barton." "But, my good young woman, this is most extraordinary--you have hardly seen the man. I should have thought you had a mind above the fascination of good looks." "His looks have nothing to do with it. But pray spare me. You cannot understand. Consider my position, Mr. Barton. I have laid bare my soul to you. I should love him were he ever so ugly--perhaps, who knows, he may come to love me, though I can hardly believe such happiness will ever be mine--there, now you know!" "Would you tell him your past?" "Yes, even at the risk of his shrinking from me in horror. I am not a wicked woman, you know that, whatever my past may have been." "Quite so. That is exactly why I want you to marry Gerald." "But why, why?--me, a nobody, why should you want _me_ to marry him?" Barton's brow gathered. He resumed his seat. "I will tell you why in a very few words," he said grimly and savagely. There was a look almost of insanity in his eyes. "It is because I seek revenge--revenge against the woman who ruined my life--his mother!" CHAPTER VI. MRS. DARROW'S BOMBSHELL. For a moment Miriam stood aghast at the man's abandoned confession of his feelings. How anyone could nurse such venom in his breast it was beyond her to conceive.