He smiled ruefully enough, and held out his hand. Sylvester took it. "Say one thing more, Lucy," he said; "wish me as single a purpose as your own." Lucian looked puzzled. Sylvester's lips were set and pale, and his eyes very bright. "I'll wish you anything I can," he said, and went off to collect his belongings. He was longer about it than Sylvester had expected; the hansom he had ordered waited, before he came in again ready to start. He put something down on the table. "I don't think you brought that photograph to Liverpool for me, Syl," he said, and was gone before a word could be spoken. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. A FAITHFUL SERVANT. When Amethyst found herself, with a shock of surprise, in Sylvester's presence, her first thought was that he had come to plead the cause of Lucian Leigh, and there was a certain distance in her tone as she said-- "Mr Riddell!" "Miss Haredale," said Sylvester, standing up before her, "I have come to beg you not to marry Sir Richard Grattan. Forgive me--forgive me. I am so beyond defence on any ground but one, that no beating about the bush will soften my actions. I love you, therefore I understand you. Your heart is not in this marriage. If you give away your freedom, all the best part of you will die. I am pleading for no one, not for myself nor for Lucian. Oh, don't deny your heart--your soul--don't do this thing." His voice was full of such strong vibration, though he spoke low, his eyes so full of passionate purpose, the astonishment at his words was so great, that Amethyst stood looking at him for a moment, with wide-open eyes and parted lips. He took courage and went on-- "I know it would be all well enough for some women. I know how often it is done. But it is not right for you--not for you. That which you defy--you don't think it is your conscience--but it is--it is--it is the Voice of God within you. It is the highest claim that He can make on you." Sylvester came close to her and grasped her hands. In her wide startled eyes, he seemed to read what he must say. Not one thought of himself marred the intensity of his appeal, and she made no attempt to fence with him, forgot how easily, with one conventional word, she could have put him aside. He seized upon her and dominated her, as no one else had ever done. "I did not think God ever spoke to me," she said. "Oh yes, He does," answered Sylvester. "I have seen your eyes listen." "But," said Amethyst, "I don't think you can know. My romance is over. I--till a few days back--I was quite content to marry him. He is quite good. And I am almost bound. It would do such dreadful harm to draw back. It would be wrong just to follow a feeling--a fear--"