‘I have no love to give you. If you could see into the bottom of my heart, you would be horrified at its emptiness. The warmest feeling I have is gratitude to my friends the Dulcimers. Yes, I think that is the only human feeling you would discover in my heart. That is why I like to live among these books. They are a world in themselves. They give me delight, and ask no love in return.’ ‘But I am not like the books, Beatrix; I ask for your love, and I shall not be easily denied.’ And then he told her his dream about Culverhouse Castle. How she was to reign there--not like his mother, in silence and seclusion, but in all the power of youth, beauty, and wealth, a queen of county society, the centre and focus of a happy world of her own, loved, admired, and revered. ‘I,’ exclaimed Beatrix--‘I, who have been suspected of poisoning my father?’ ‘That shameful slander has never penetrated beyond this contemptible hole,’ said Kenrick, very disrespectful to Little Yafford in the warmth of his indignation. ‘For God’s sake, Beatrix, do not let that foul scandal weigh in your mind. Perhaps that is the reason you reject me,’ he added, slow to believe that he had been mistaken when he fancied himself beloved. ‘No,’ answered Beatrix, ‘but the only man I ever loved rejected me for that reason.’ ‘Oh,’ said Kenrick, deeply mortified. After this confession he could no longer doubt that he had mistaken Beatrix’s feelings towards him. He was silent for some minutes, and then he exclaimed suddenly,-- ‘That man was my cousin Cyril?’ ‘He was.’ ‘Then my cousin Cyril is a mean hound.’ ‘Do you want me to hate you?’ cried Beatrix, angrily. ‘He is not mean. He is all that is good and noble. Why should his pure life be sullied by the taint that has fallen upon mine? He, a clergyman, could not afford to take a wife whom men have suspected of evil. He is like Cæsar. His wife must be above suspicion. He loved me once. He will love me always, perhaps, a little better than all other women, as I shall love him to the end of life above all other men. But he has chosen something better in this life than a woman’s love. He has given himself to the service of God. No unholy thing must come within the veil of the temple. Nothing stained, not even with the suspicion of sin, must enter there. A priest’s wife must be spotless.’ ‘If he could suspect you,’ exclaimed Kenrick, vindictively, ‘he is unworthy----’ ‘Oh, for pity’s sake do not suggest that,’ interrupted Beatrix. ‘I cannot believe that he could suspect me, having once known and loved me. It was not his suspicion, but the evil thoughts of others, that parted us.’ ‘Then he is a coward,’ cried Kenrick, honestly angry. ‘A man’s choice of his wife is a question of life or death for himself. He is both craven and fool if he allows other people to be the arbiters of his fate.’ ‘But you do not understand,’ urged Beatrix, pleading for the man who had broken her heart. ‘It is his office----’ ‘His office be----’