"No, darling, but you shall be. Besides, you have not yet heard what I ask of you. I don't imagine that your father would let you marry me now. I tell you plainly, I cannot marry--in a short time I shall have the means to do so. You know I have been abroad settling my affairs, and when I got back I was resolved that I would not wait a moment before letting you know that all there is of me is yours. Others may shrink from your father and brother's reputation. I care for it so little that I am not afraid to allude to it in your presence. Tell me that I don't love you in vain, tell me--Ah, you think I am mad, that I am too bold. Is that possible?" "I cannot--answer--in a minute," said Amethyst. "I never thought you were more than a friend." "But I was a friend?" he said, taking her hand and coming closer. "And I want to teach you what a friend can be. You need not promise, there is nothing to tell the world about at present. But we will be friends; we understand each other, we can talk and write--as friends. You can throw me over if you like, by and by. But I have laid my heart open to you, and I think--I think you have felt that the world is a dull place with no love in it." "Oh, it is!" burst from Amethyst's lips. "My life is very dreary." "_Your_ life dreary. Never any more, my darling; we will make each other's happiness now." "Amethyst!" The door was pushed open, and Una came quickly into the room. She went right up to her sister, and stood by her side. "I had lost you," she said anxiously. Amethyst caught hold of her hand, while Mr Carisbrooke turned upon her with a sort of fury. "Your sister is with _me_," he said. "Mr Carisbrooke," said Amethyst, "I cannot say a word now. You cannot take me prisoner all in a minute;" and, still holding Una's hand, she darted back to the protection of the rest of the company. "He is a bad man, Amethyst," said Una passionately, when they were up-stairs alone. "He led Blanche, heaven knows where; and he sacrificed Carrie to Charles to get near to you. And you _know_ the tales we heard of him were true." "Yes, he says so," said Amethyst. "You don't love him? You don't want to marry him? You have never thought of him all this time?" But Amethyst tossed about all night in restless excitement. Love, in a complex nature, is a complex thing, and though she was not quite in love with Oliver Carisbrooke, he had truly said that he could teach her to be so. She was fascinated by him, and, when she remembered how nearly she had sacrificed her life to worldly ambition, it is impossible to exaggerate the attraction which this heat of daring passion, this indifference to consequences, had for her. Once again a strong appeal had been made to her to change her course of life. Sylvester had appealed to her sense of right, in utter self-forgetfulness, and had won the day. He had given her conscience strength. She heard his voice now--"I would rather see you die than do it."