“But _you_ didn’t. Surely you didn’t, Carl! You know I don’t care for Lord Delaval--and that I love _you_!” she whispers, _les larmes au voix_. He looks down at her sweet downcast face. It is a face bathed in blushes. For Zai always blushes when she tells him all that is in her heart. But she need say nothing. He has only to look at her face, which tells its story of love with exceeding clearness and sweetness to his vain, incense-loving eyes. “Zai! do you really love me so very much?” He asks the question from sheer selfishness and a desire for incense to his overweening vanity. He knows he has sought this opportunity to tell her something which will break her heart. But no--hearts are tough things, and do not break easily. But something which will surely wreck her implicit child-like faith in the fidelity and sincerity of all men. Never after to-night will Zai Beranger perhaps feel that loving words and honest words are twins. Rather she will shrink from them, knowing that they may be uttered only to betray. Now she believes in Carlton Conway with her whole soul. And when he asks: “Zai! do you really love me so very much?” She lets both white arms form a circle for his neck, and woos him to touch her red lips. For one moment she forgets her maidenly reserve, and only remembers that in her own eyes she is his wife--in heart, if not in name. “Oh Carl! Carl! let us marry at once--dear! and then no one can come between us two!” “We cannot!” he says hastily. Zai starts as if she were shot, and covers her face with her two little hands, while a burning blush surges over it. It comes to her suddenly, the terrible, terrible shame, of _her_ having asked--of _his_ rejection--and then the colour leaves her cheek. She leans against the balustrade, with the moonlight falling on a face white as undriven snow. Her eyes have a dumb misery in their depths, and her mouth quivers like a child’s. “Oh Zai! forgive me if I hurt you by saying we cannot marry!” he whispers brokenly, for her white face and trembling lips move him strangely, worldling as he is. “You know very well how I am placed! I have nothing but my salary, and that is dependent on health; and if I don’t marry some girl with money, I don’t know what will become of me, Zai!” A deep silence ensues for a minute or two. Up above the glorious moon sails serenely along, and a few feathery clouds float athwart the great sapphire plain of sky. From within, the sound of music is carried out on the fragrant night, but human eyes and human voices are nowhere near. These two are alone, entirely alone, on this isolated balcony, and they have for many months played at making love. Listen then in what passionate words Belgravians and worldlings say farewell, if farewell must be said by them. We all know that Romeo and Juliet would not have said it, but they were foolish inconsequent young people, who fortunately did not live to test the agreeabilities of a narrow income.