"I do not trample on them," she said, gently; "I would not wrong you so. I take them up in my hands and restore them to you, thanking you for the gift." "What do you mean, Pauline?" he asked, while the flush died from his face. "I mean," she replied, softly, "that I thank you for the gift you have offered me, but that I cannot accept it. I cannot be your wife, for I do not love you." He stood for some minutes dazed by the heavy blow; he had taken hope from her gentle manner, and the disappointment was almost greater than he could bear. "It gives me as much pain to say this," she continued, "as it gives you to hear it; pray believe that." "I cannot bear it!" he cried. "I will not bear it! I will not believe it! It is my life I ask from you, Pauline--my life! You cannot send me from you to die in despair!" His anguish was real, not feigned. Love, life, liberty, all were at stake. He knelt at her feet; he covered her white, jeweled hands with kisses and with hot, passionate tears. Her keen womanly instinct told her there was no feigning in the deep, broken sob that rose to his lips. "It is my life!" he repeated. "If you send me from you, Pauline, I shall be a desperate, wicked man." "You should not be so," she remarked, gently; "a great love, even if it be unfortunate, should ennoble a man, not make him wicked." "Pauline," he entreated, "you must unsay those words. Think that you might learn to love me in time. I will be patient--I will wait long years for you--I will do anything to win you; only give me some hope that in time to come you will be mine." "I cannot," she said; "it would be so false. I could never love you, Captain Langton." He raised his face to hers. "Will you tell me why? You do not reject me because I am poor--you are too noble to care for wealth. It is not because I am a soldier, with nothing to offer you but a loving heart. It is not for these things. Why do you reject me, Pauline?" "No, you are right; it is not for any of those reasons; they would never prevent my being your wife if I loved you." "Then why can you not love me?" he persisted. "For many reasons. You are not at all the style of man I could love. How can you doubt me? Here you are wooing me, asking me to be your wife, offering me your love, and my hand does not tremble, my heart does not beat; your words give me no pleasure, only pain; I am conscious of nothing but a wish to end the interview. This is not love, is it, Captain Langton?" "But in time," he pleaded--"could you not learn to care for me in time?" "No, I am quite sure. You must not think I speak to pain you, but indeed you are the last man living with whom I could fall in love, or whom I could marry. If you were, as you say, a king, and came to me with a crown to offer, it would make no difference. It is better, as I am sure you will agree, to speak plainly."