"And what does he purpose doing with me?" she asked faintly. "You cannot know that." "I do; I am his most intimate friend." She started; a weird, unearthly look came into her face. "His one object in life is to prove his innocence. He cannot do that unless you confess," he said. "Confess!" she laughed mockingly. "There is nothing to confess." "You know better, and you will be forced to confess or else--" "What?" "If you do not prove his innocence he will--" "Kill me?" "That may happen, under certain circumstances, but he wishes to give you a chance." "He has asked you to speak to me?" "Yes; he was at Doncaster." "At the races?" "He saw you there. Something of the old fascination you exercise over him came back, and for a moment he wavered in his desire for revenge." He saw a faint smile steal over her face. "He told you this?" "Yes, and more; but I have said enough." "You have indeed. You have brought a terrible indictment against me, Mr. Rolfe; if it were true I ought to die of shame and remorse, but it is not true, not all of it," she said. "Lenise, look at me. Do you love me after all I have said?" "I do. Nothing you can say or do will ever alter that." "And you will marry me?" he asked. "It is a strange wooing." "I will be your wife. You will save me from him; you will try and persuade him I am not deserving of a terrible revenge," she said. "Are you afraid of him--of--Hector Woodridge?" She shuddered. "Yes," she said, "I am." "Supposing he were here, in this carriage in my place?" "I should fling myself out," she said. "I should be afraid of him; it would be terrible, awful. I could not bear it." "Because you know you have wronged him. Do the right thing, Lenise. Confess, prove his innocence, think how he has suffered for your sake, how he has kept silent all these years," he said. "Why do you torture me? If he has suffered, so have I. Do you think the knowledge of his awful position has not made me shudder every time I thought of it? I have pictured him there and wished I could obtain his release." "You can prove his innocence," he said. "Supposing I could, what then? What would happen? I should have to take his place." "And you dare not." "I am a woman." "Then you will not help to prove his innocence?" "I cannot." Hector got up quickly, took her by the wrists and dragged her up. "Look at me, Lenise. Look well. Do you not know me?" He felt her trembling; she marked every feature of his face. Gradually it all came back to her, overwhelmed her. She traced feature by feature--the eyes were _his_ eyes, yes, the face was _his_ face. He saw the dawn of recognition come over her and break into full light. She knew him; her eyes dilated with terror, her cheeks went ashen pale, her lips were colorless, her limbs trembled, she could hardly stand. "Yes," he said. "It is I, Lenise, Hector Woodridge, and you are alone with me in this carriage." "Mercy, Hector, mercy, I am only a woman."