A minute later they had reached the ray and the door. He could see her face now. "How ill you look!" he said, involuntarily. "I noticed it last evening. It is not conventional to say so, but it is at least a real regret. He should take better care of you." The blind beggar, hearing their footsteps, had put out his hand. "Do not go yet," said Morgan, giving him a franc. "See how it is raining outside. Walk with me once around the whole interior for the sake of the pleasant part of our Florentine days--for there _was_ a pleasant part; it will be our last walk together." She assented silently, and they turned into the shadow again. "I am going to make a confession," he said, as they passed the choir; "it can make no difference now, and I prefer that you should know it. I did not realize it myself at the time, but I see now--that is, I have discovered since yesterday--that I was in love with you, more or less, from the beginning." She made no answer, and they passed under Michael Angelo's grand, unfinished statue, and came around on the other side. "Of course I was fascinated with Beatrice; in one way I was her slave. Still, when I said to you, 'Forgive me; I am in love with some one else,' I really think it was more to see what you would say or do than any feeling of loyalty to her." Again she said nothing. They went down the north aisle. "I wish you would tell me," he said, leaving the subject of himself and turning to her, "that you are fully and really happy in this marriage of yours. I hope you are, with all my heart; but I should like to hear it from your own lips." She made a gesture as if of refusal; but he went on. "Of course I know I have no right; I ask it as a favor." They were now in deep obscurity, almost darkness; but something seemed to tell him that she was suffering. "You are not going to do that wretched thing--marry without love?" he said, stopping abruptly. "Do not, Margaret, do not! I know you better than you know yourself, and you will not be able to bear it. Some women can; but you could not. You have too deep feelings--too--" He did not finish the sentence, for she had turned from him suddenly, and was walking across the dusky space in the centre of the great temple whose foundations were so grandly laid six centuries ago. But he followed her and stopped her, almost by force, taking both her hands in his. "You must not do this," he said; "you must not marry in that way. It is dangerous; it is horrible; for you, it is a crime." Then, as he stood close to her and saw two tears well over and drop from her averted eyes, "Margaret! Margaret!" he said, "rather than that, it would have been better to have married even me." She drew her hands from his, and covered her face; she was weeping. "Is it too late?" he whispered. "Is there a possibility--I love you very deeply," he added. And, cold and indifferent as Florence considered him, his voice was broken. * * * * *