‘Forget! yes, if I could do that. It would be as easy to pluck my heart out of my body and go on living comfortably afterwards. No, Daphne, I can never forget. No, Daphne, I can never go back to the old calm tranquil love. It never was love. It was friendship, affection, respect—what you will, but not love. I never knew what love meant till I knew you.’ ‘Good-bye,’ she said gently, perceiving that an argument of this kind might go on for ever. It was sweet to hear him plead; there was even a fearful kind of happiness—half sweet, half bitter—in being alone with him in that silent wood, in knowing that he was her own; heart, mind, and soul devoted to her; ready to sacrifice honour and good name for her sake: for what would the world say of him if he jilted Madoline and ran away with Madoline’s sister? Her breast swelled with ineffable pride at the thought of her triumph over this man to whom her girlish heart had given itself unwittingly, on just such a summer afternoon as this, two years ago. The man who had so often seemed to scorn her, to regard her only as a subject for friendly ridicule, in the beginning of things at South Hill. He was at her feet; she had made him her slave. Her heart thrilled with delight at the knowledge of his love; yet above every selfish consideration was her thought of her sister, and that made her firm as the granite peak of Jaman yonder, rising sharply above its black girdle of firs. She looked at him for a few moments steadily, with a curious smile, a smile which lighted up the expressive face with an almost inspired look. Her hand rested lightly on the lace at her throat, the finger-tips just touching the pearl necklace, Lina’a new year’s gift, which she wore constantly. It was her talisman. ‘Let us shake hands,’ she said, ‘and part friends.’ ‘Friends!’ he echoed scornfully, ‘am I ever anything else than your friend? I am your slave. The greater includes the less.’ He clasped her hand in both of his, lifted it to his lips, and then let her go without a word. The smile faded from her face as she turned from him. She went slowly down the hill by the winding path. Gerald took a hasty survey of the scene, and then struck downwards by a descent that seemed almost perpendicular. CHAPTER XXXII. ‘FOR LOVE AND NOT FOR HATE THOU MUST BE DED.’