“If I could say 'Yes,' I would, George--may I call you this, only to-day?--without any delay but I must say 'No' instead, although it may break my heart I can never be your wife.” “What do you mean...?” “Bear with me, and I will tell you all. You know now it is not because I do not want to marry you--I do; I also can love, and I do not wish to be an old maid--no woman does. I will not pretend indifference, but it is not possible for me to leave my mother.” “Is that all?” cried Lennox, as one who has cast off a great dread. “I would never ask Mrs. Leconte to part from the last of her daughters. She will come with you, and we shall strive to make her life peaceful and glad....” “Please do not go on, for this can never be. No power could induce mother to change her way or live with us. She will live and die alone, or I must stay with her. My duty is clear, and, George, you must... accept this decision as final.” “You will let me speak to her and put our case...?” “No, a thousand times no. She must never know our secret. It would still be the same between you and me, but mother would fret every year because I had made this sacrifice. As it is she knows nothing, and will never guess the truth. Promise me you will say nothing; that is one favour I have to ask, and there is another, that... you do not call again, for I could not bear to see you for a little... for some years. You will do so much for me, will you not?” He had sat down, his head on his breast, a figure of utter dejection, when she laid her hand on his arm. “Things cannot end after this fashion,” and Lennox sprang to his feet; “does not the Book say that a man will forsake father and mother for love's sake, and should it not be so with a woman also? What right have you to deny your love and blight two lives?” “Many would say that I am wrong, but my mind is made up. Do not try me farther, George; God knows how hard it is to obey my conscience. My duty, as I see it, and that is all one can go by, is to mother, and if I made it second even to love, I should be inwardly ashamed, and you... you could not respect me. “Say you understand,” and her lips trembled; “say that you forgive me for the sorrow I have brought upon you, and let us say farewell.” He made as though he would have clasped her in his arms and compelled her to surrender, and then he also conquered. “God keep and bless you, Grace; if I cannot have you in my home, none can keep me from carrying you in my heart,” and he was gone. She watched him till he disappeared round the corner of the square, and noticed that he walked as one stricken with age. One of their windows commanded a corner of the square garden, where the trees were in their first summer greenery, and she could hear the birds singing. As she turned away, the sunlight lingered on the white roses which George Lennox had brought as the token of his love, and then departed, leaving the faded room in the shadow. III