“Let her cry,” he interrupted me. “There may be more hysteria than remorse in her tears--though I am sure she is sorry enough. She imposed too heavy a part on herself; the imposture was too much for her strength. She never could have persisted in it. Her true nature would have broken through and would have betrayed her extraordinary motives.” “While her deception lasted, it was very clever. I really gave her credit for being the unmannerly young person she enacted. To be sure, I found it hard to reconcile her beauty with her gross behaviour, and, no doubt, had she carried on her deceit much longer, I should have found her out. But, before that could have happened, she would have gained her object, for I had fully made up my mind to leave you to-day.” “Nonsense! I wouldn’t have permitted it. I noticed that her behaviour was very extraordinary; but to tell you frankly the truth, I thought the whole thing a mere piece of coquetry. After that singing bout of hers, I was persuaded that her reason for acting so strangely was merely to make her real nature and capacities more striking, by the force of contrast when she chose to exhibit them. Women will descend to any absurdities to gain admiration.” “She evidently didn’t want me to admire her,” said I, laughing. “Not the least galling part of the business is the doubt her deceit implies of _me_. Could she--could you imagine for a moment that I could ever sanction her marriage with a man she didn’t love? If she can suspect that I would part with her on commercial grounds only, she does me a far greater wrong than she has done you.” “It is her reserve that has brought all this about,” said I. “Had she asked a few questions, nothing could have happened to trouble us.” “She _is_ reserved--shy, as I told you--and confoundedly proud. She owned to me just now, that the idea of her becoming your wife in order to carry out her uncle’s and my wishes was abhorrent to her. ‘If I am to be loved, papa,’ she said, ‘I must be loved without regard to the wishes or objections of outsiders.’” “My views exactly,” I exclaimed, “I never came here with the intention of making love to her. I wanted to know her and enjoy your hospitality and society, and uncle Tom could have no right to expect more from me. I always was and always shall be opposed to marriages ‘of convenience,’” I continued warmly. “A man and a woman are brought together without love, without sympathy, without probably one interest in common, save that of mutual disgust. How can they be happy? You may tell them that their marriage will fill their pockets with money; but how many pounds sterling does an ounce of pure love cost? Where are they to go to market for their everyday moral wants? I am too poor, and I hope too wise to sneer at money; but in my humble opinion the man who should set to work to make a map of human life, would not blunder in putting all the best things outside the money line.” CHAPTER VII.