"It is another reason, for all that," replied Mattie; "let me dismiss it at once, if you are ashamed of it. You have come hither oppressed--burdened, I may say--with a sense of duty to me; let me raise the load from you by saying, that I will not be your wife. If I would have married you even out of pity myself," she added, a little scornfully, "I will not take a man for a husband who would have had pity upon me!" "Very well," he answered, moodily. "As your wife, never--but oh! Sidney, as the old friend and sister, always! Don't think ill of me because I cannot see my way to happiness--don't think that there is any difference in me, or that I value you less than I ever did. You understand me?" "Scarcely, Mattie--you have altered very much." "You must not think that--I have not altered in any one respect--I would be ever your friend, ever hold a place in your heart, ever be remembered as the poor girl who would have died to make you happy!" "But would not have married me for the same purpose," answered Sidney, in a kinder tone; "is that it, Mattie?" "My marriage with you would have rendered you wretched--don't deny it again, Sid--I am sure of that!" "Hence your answer. Well, if it must be, I will rest content. I will believe that it is all for the best." "Let me tell you another reason--the last--why I would not answer Yes to you. May I?" "I am interested in every reason," he said. "Because you were bound to another whom you loved once--_whom you love still_." He sprang to his feet, and then dropped back into his place, as though shot at by a pistol. "Do you believe that I would come here with a mask on--a robber, and a liar?" "Not intentionally, Sidney; because you have fought hard to keep the old love back, and to believe that it was gone for ever. You have fostered that idea by thinking uncharitably of _her_, by turning away from that true happiness which only marriage with her will ever bring to you. You are a man who has never changed; and in attempting to live down the past, have but more clearly discovered the secret of your life." "What--what makes you think this?" "I cannot explain it, but it is as true as that you and I will never marry one another for love, for gratitude, for anything," she answered. "Harriet Wesden and you should never have parted, but have understood each other better, and had more faith. You turned from her, and her pride kept her apart from you; but, Sidney, through all, and before all, she holds that love still." "I cannot believe that." "Your cousin Maurice has told you so--now let me. You will never be happy without her--do justice to her, if you are the Sidney Hinchford whom I have ever known. Sidney, you _do_ love her--are you not man enough to own it?"