"Poor wretch that I am," he said bitterly. "Still, I cannot help it." "But," she cried imploringly, "your life would not be safe if they knew of your being here." "Indeed? Well, what of it? My presence is a torture to you. I am a torture and misery to myself. They would not dare to kill me. I don't know, though," he said, with a mocking laugh, "by accident, perhaps." "Dr Chester," cried Marion, appealingly, "does it please you to inflict this agony upon me?" "No, no," he said, snatching at her hand. "I would give my life to save you pain." "Then go. Leave me and forget me. I am not the true, innocent woman you think. I am not fit to be your wife." "What!" he cried, turning ghastly pale, while as she saw his agony her face grew convulsed and she half raised her hands to him pleadingly, but let them fall. He saw the movement and snatched them to his breast. "It is not true," he cried proudly. "Some false sentiment makes you say this. I will not believe it of the woman I love." She did not resist until he tried to take her to his heart. Then she shrank away. "No," she said. "You must not touch me like that. Once more, believe me, all this must end. You must think of me no more--you must go at once, and we must never meet again." "You have told me that before," he said, "but I am not a free agent. I was obliged to come. I have been here these three days past, watching for an opportunity to speak to you; and when I do you once more cast me off--you drive me away. Well, I have borne it so long; I can go on bearing it till you relent, or--I die," he added softly. She looked at him wildly for a moment, and his hopes rose, for the relenting seemed close at hand, but she was stern and cold again directly. "And your betrothed wife," she said. "What of her?" He was silent for a few moments, and then he made a deprecating sign with his hands. "What do you know of her?" he said. "Everything," she replied. "How basely and cruelly you have behaved to her. Is this your honour as a man?" He heard a deep sigh. "I have only one thing to say in my defence," he said slowly. "I believed that I loved her; but then I had not seen you. I was not under this spell." "It is no spell," she said firmly. "Go to her, and forget me. I tell you that I am not worthy to be your wife, and that such a union is impossible for reasons which I dare not explain. You hear me?" "Yes," he said sadly, "I hear you." "Then good-bye for ever." She turned from him, but a piteous moan escaped her lips, and the next moment he had clasped her to his heart. "Marion, my own!" he whispered, as he pressed his lips to hers; "then you do love me!" "Yes," she said, as she clung to him, and for a moment or two returned his embrace. "You know I love you and shall never love another, but go now, for Heaven's sake! I tell you it is impossible. Good-bye-- good-bye."