A longer pause followed. It might be ungenerous to interject a note of pain into her first happiness, but it is human to cry out, to justify one’s self, to call attention to the gift, when one has given a heart and a soul. “If Cathcart can give you even a part of the fortune you will lose by marrying him, he is right to ask you. I could give you nothing. And so, although I have loved you for nineteen years, I could not ask you to descend from wealth to poverty with me.” “I shall not lose, perhaps, as much as you think by marrying an American,” replied Constance to this, adjusting her draperies in the light of the fire, which played over her face. How bright, how smiling she was! Her dark eyes shone, and the faint dimple in her cheek kept coming and going. “I did not, of course, relish the thought of spending all my life alone,” she continued, laughing shamelessly. “I was very young, you may remember. So I determined to save up all I could of my income. It was easy enough, living, as I did, with a person who was most of the time a helpless invalid. Then, my uncle, von Hesselt, realising the injustice done me by my aunt, left in his will a considerable sum of money, which was to be paid me if I lost my aunt’s fortune through marrying an American. This was no more than fair, as my aunt left the money to the von Hesselts in case I should marry an American. My lawyers here have assured me that it is an open question whether I could not, after all, marry whom I will, and retain the money, because the terms of the reversion to the von Hesselts are very obscure, and it might come at last to my aunt’s heirs-at-law, of which I am the chief. But I hate publicity and lawsuits and all such things, and as I am still reasonably well off, I concluded to spare myself such agonies, and to be satisfied with much less than I have now. But it will be enough to give me all I want in any event. I can keep this house, my carriage and servants, and dress well. What more does any one want?” As she continued speaking, Thorndyke’s agony increased with every word. If only he had known before! Possibly--ah, how vain now was it! How hopeless, how full of everlasting pain! “But,” Constance kept on, “Mr. Cathcart is not the man for whom I should sacrifice even so much. He has never hinted that I should marry him. I am sure he does not want me. I cannot imagine how such an absurd report got out.” Thorndyke felt stunned. He said, after a moment: “So you are not engaged to Cathcart?” “Certainly not. Have I not just said that he has never asked me to marry him? And that _he_ is not the man for whom I would sacrifice any part of my fortune?” She emphasised the “he,” and her words were full of meaning.