This time she spoke in a tone of sadness and feeling. Why did I not tell her that I did love a woman; that I loved her with my whole soul, and that that woman was herself? That is what a great many people will think a man of spirit would have done. As far as spirit means pride, it was pride that prevented me from even thinking of doing such a thing. Here was a lady, wealthy, refined, highly educated, and highly bred. She had made a plain, business-like proposition to me in a plain, business-like manner. What right had I to introduce into the discussion an element of the possibility of which she had clearly never even dreamt? True, I was a gentleman by birth, but I was a shopman by position. To have avowed my love for her would have been as grotesque as if I were to declare my passion for the next lady who came into Mr. Conder's shop. Of all this I was keenly sensible, for there could be no greater gall to my pride than the tone in which she spoke, which seemed as if she were unconscious that she could be loved by such as I. Instinctively I knew that if I deviated in the least from the purely commercial programme she was dictating, the whole matter would come to an abrupt and final conclusion. I would have liked, goodness knows, to have said that I would obey her behest without reward. But that, I saw, would alter the whole spirit of the contract in such a way as to destroy the contract itself, and thus place us everlastingly apart. If we once went through the form of marriage, there was just a possibility of her yet being my wife in a higher sense. If I returned to Mr. Conder's shop we were parted forever. This being clearly before my mind, I braced myself up by a strong effort, and said: "No, madam. I told you the truth to-day. You are not taking me from any woman. But I am surprised, it is a great change for me--I perfectly understand the proposition you have made. We are to go through a form of marriage, and I am never to seek to know anything about you afterward. Yes, madam, I pledge my word of honor to abide by the contract." She then asked me some questions about myself, taking notes of my answers--who my parents were, where I was born, and so forth. If she had been a barrister in full practice she could not have made the examination more searching and condensed. The examination over she took down my address both at Mr. Conder's and at 8 Charlton Crescent, High Street, Islington, and then said: "To-day is Tuesday. You will hear from Mr. Chambers by Saturday morning at the latest--probably before that--in the meantime, will you promise me that you will not talk to anybody about what has occurred? You will see afterward that it will be for your own benefit not to let the world know how you have become possessed of the means that will be yours." "You may be sure, madam," I answered, "that I shall keep my own counsel. I know nobody that I should be disposed to make a confidante of. And even if I did, I should respect your wishes."