"I do love him. I loved him long before I knew you; I shall love him long after you are forgotten. Leave me; I will not listen to you. Why do you speak so to me? Why did you follow me?" "Because, dear, I love you. I did not fully know it myself until now. Believe me, Anne, I had no more intention of speaking in this way when I sat down here than I had of following you when I first heard you had gone; but the next morning I did it. Come, let everything go to the winds, as I do, and say you love me; for I know you do." The tears were in Anne's eyes now; she could not see. "Let me go to mademoiselle," she said, half rising as if to pass him. "It is cruel to insult me." "Do not attract attention; sit down for one moment. I will not keep you long; but you shall listen to me. Insult you? Did I ever dream of insulting you? Is it an insult to ask you to be my wife? That is what I ask now. I acknowledge that I did not follow you with any such intention. But now that I sit here beside you, I realize what you are to me. My darling, I love you, child as you have seemed. Look up, and tell me that you will be my wife." "Never." "Why?" said Heathcote, not in the least believing her, but watching the intense color flush her face and throat, and then die away. "I shall marry Rast. And you--will marry Helen." "As I said before, _I_ can take care of myself. The question is _you_." As he spoke he looked at her so insistently that, struggling and unwilling, she yet felt herself compelled to meet his eyes in return. "Helen loves you dearly," she said, desperately. They were looking full at each other now. In the close proximity required by the noise of the train, they could see the varying lights and shadows in the depths of each other's eyes. The passengers' faces were all turned forward; there was no one on a line with them; virtually they were alone. "I do not know what your object is in bringing in Mrs. Lorrington's name so often," said Heathcote. "She does not need your championship, I assure you." "How base to desert her so!" "Not any more base than to marry a man you do not love," replied Heathcote. "I hardly know anything more base than that. But marry _me_, my darling," he added, his voice softening as he bent toward her, "and you shall see how I will love you." "You said I could go," said the girl, turning from him, and putting her hand over her eyes.