Taken aback at such generosity, Mary ran down at once, still blushing violently, to Dick in the drawing-room. She hardly paused for a second at the glass on her way, just to pull her front hair straight and rub her cheek with her hand--quite needlessly--to bring up some colour. Dick was dressed in black from head to foot, and looked even graver and more solemn than usual. He stretched out both his hands to hers as Mary entered, and took her fingers in his own with a regretful tenderness. Then he looked deep into her eyes for some seconds in silence. His heart was full to bursting. How could he ever break it to her? 'Twas so hard to give up all his dreams for ever. At last he found words. 'Oh, Mary,' he cried, trembling, 'you've heard of all that's happened?' Mary pressed his hand hard, and answered simply, with a great lump in her throat: 'Yes, Dick dear, I've heard--and all these days long I've lived with you constantly.' Dick sat down on the sofa and began to tell her all his story. He told her first about his father's death and the things that had followed it; and then he went on to the more immediately practical question of what he was to do for his mother and sisters. His voice trembled as he spoke, for he was very, very fond of her; but he told her all straight out, as a Plantagenet should, without one word of the disgrace he felt it would be. He dwelt only on the absolute necessity of his doing something at once to provide for the family. 'And under these circumstances, Mary,' he said at last, looking down at her with some moisture in his brimming eyes. 'I feel that my duty to you is perfectly plain and clear. I must release you unconditionally from the engagement, which, as we both know, has never existed between us.' Mary looked at him for a moment as if she hardly took in the full meaning of his words; then, in a. very low and decided voice, she answered clearly: 'But _I_ don't release _you_, dear Dick--and I shall never release you.' 'But, Mary,' Dick cried, unable to conceal his pleasure at her words, in spite of himself, 'you mustn't think of it, you know. It's--it's quite, quite impossible. In the first place, I shall never be able to marry at all now, or if ever, why, only after years and years--oh, Heaven only knows how many!' ['That's nothing!' Mary sobbed out parenthetically; 'if necessary, I could wait a thousand years for you.') 'And then again,' Dick continued, resolved not to spare himself one solitary drop in his cup of degradation, 'it would never do for you to be engaged--to the local dancing-master. If it comes to that, indeed, I'm sure Mrs. Tradeseant wouldn't allow it.' With a sudden womanly impulse Mary rose all at once and flung herself, sobbing, on her lover's bosom.