"No right? I? No, perhaps I have no right. But I take the right whether it is mine or not. Because I love you still, as I have always loved you, because there is nothing in heaven or earth I would not do for you, because if you asked me for all I possessed at this moment, you should have it, to do what you like with it--though you shall have nothing of what is yours--because, to save you the least pain, I would take John Darche's place and go to prison and be called a rascal and a thief before all the world, for your sake, for your dear sake, Marion. I love you. You know that I love you. Right or wrong--but it is right and not wrong! There is not a man in the world who would do for any woman the least of the things I would do for you." Again he tried to take her hand, though she resisted and snatched it from him after a little struggle. "Leave me! leave me!" she cried despairingly. "Let me go!" "Not until you know, not until you understand that every word I say means ten thousand times more than it ever meant to any one, not until you know that I love you through and through with every part of me, with every thought and action of my life. Look at me! Look into my eyes! Do you not see it there, the truth, the devotion? No? Is it so long since I loved you and you said--you thought--you believed for one little day that you loved me? Can you not remember it? Can you not remember even the sound of the words? They were so sweet to hear! They are so very sweet as they come back now--with all they mean now--but could not mean then!" "Harry!" She could not resist pronouncing his name that once. "I knew it! You loved me then. You love me now. What is the use of fighting against it, when we love each other so? Marion! Love! Ah God! At last!" "Go!" With a quick movement she sprang to her feet and stood back from him. "Marion!" But in a moment it was past. With a gesture she kept him at arm's length. "Is that your friendship?" she asked reproachfully. "No, it is love," he answered almost roughly. "There is no friendship in it." "And you talk of helping me!" she cried. "And at such a time as this, when I am weak, unstrung, you force it all upon me, and drag out what I have hidden so long. No, no! You do not love me. Go!" "Not love you!" Again he tried to get near her. "God in heaven! Do not hurt me so!" "No," she answered, still thrusting him back. "If you loved me you would help me, you would respect me, you would honour me, you would not try to drag me down." "Drag you down! Ah, Marion!" He spoke very unsteadily, then turning his face from her he leaned upon the mantelpiece and watched the fire. A long pause followed. After awhile he looked up again and their eyes met. "Harry!" said Mrs. Darche quietly. "Yes," he answered. "Come and sit beside me on that chair." Brett obeyed.