Margery tremblingly withdrew her hands, and her eyes met his glowing ones, with horror and distress in their depths. She had never dreamed of this. She had liked Robert, thinking him a cheery, kind-hearted man; but love--love from him, when every pulse in her beat only for Stuart! It was a horror--a sacrilege! Robert Bright saw her slight shudder, and he tried once more to grasp her hands. “Forgive me, Margery,” he said, hurriedly. “I would not have spoken so soon, but something within me forced me to do so. I could not bear to see you looking so pale and ill. You want comfort now, and so I spoke. Margery, I love you! My darling, don’t be frightened. Perhaps I am rough; but I love truly--you cannot know how truly, Margery!” But she had drawn back, and, with her face buried in her hands, had sunk into her chair again. As she felt his touch on her shoulder, her hands dropped, but her head was still lowered. “You must not say such words,” she said, faintly. “Dear Mr. Robert, forgive me, but--but I cannot hear them. I----” “I am a brute to tease you,” he broke in, quickly; “but, Margery, I am not sane, now! I love you so dearly; give me one kind word.” “I cannot, I cannot!” she cried. “You must not hope. Mr. Robert, I----” “Not hope!” he repeated, blankly. “Not hope! Do you mean that, Margery?” “Yes,” she answered, putting one hand to her heart to check its tumultuous throbbings. “Yes; I mean it. I like you--you are so good; but love----” The sadness of her accents touched him. “Then forget it all,” he said, huskily. “Love does not kill. I shall get over it. And yet----” He hesitated, looked once more at her drooping figure, and then went on, hurriedly: “Don’t let this stop you from going to my mother, if you care to do so. I have to run up to London to-night. We should not meet.” Margery rose and held out her hands to him. In an instant he had them pressed to his breast, his eyes fixed on her face; but there was no indication of what he sought in her pallid cheeks and trembling lips. He loosened his grasp. “Then,” he said, slowly, “there is no hope, Margery?” “None,” she murmured, faintly. Robert Bright pressed his lips to her hands, and the next minute she heard his step grow fainter and fainter along the path, and then the click of the gate told that he was gone.