"It seems early to speak—in the midst of all our trouble, I mean. I should have waited a little longer. But if you are bent on this governess plan—and—" with a break—"I am not allowed to put off. Mr. Carden-Cox has made my speaking at once the condition of his silence." "I see!"—calmly. "And that is your reason!" Tears gathered on the downcast lashes, yet she forced a laugh. "Yes, I understand. It is most praiseworthy! For the madre's sake, no doubt!" Then she looked up, straight and hard, into his face. "A convenient arrangement for managing uncle Arthur!" Nigel was stung deeply by her tone, and Fulvia saw it. "If I say 'No'—what then?" she asked mockingly. "Will you have done your duty in uncle Arthur's eyes?" He turned away, and went to the window, while Fulvia sat still, thinking. She did not know what to say next. Dismiss him!—no, that she could not. Recall him!—no, that she would not. Nigel came back presently, unrecalled. He looked depressed and spiritless. "I do not wish you to misunderstand me, Fulvia. I have no wish to profess more than I feel. It is best to be open in such cases. You have always been a great deal to me—more, perhaps, than you yourself knew. But—there has been another hope. I have had to give that up. It is at an end now." He spoke without a falter, without any of the usual signs of strong feeling, and Fulvia was deceived by his calmness at the very moment when he was endeavouring to undeceive her. "That is over; and I am ready to pledge myself to you for life—to endeavour to repay all! And if—if anything is wanting in my love for you, I will do my utmost to learn—to conquer—I think you understand! Will you have me?" Fulvia gave him one more glance, and dropped her eyes. Could she accept him, knowing herself to have been only second? For a moment there came an impulse to fling aside the offered devotion, which fell so far short of the love she gave to him. But this impulse bent before a stronger impulse in the other direction. Whatever he had once felt for Ethel, the composure with which he spoke of giving her up seemed to tell of no absorbing affection now. If she said "No," he might turn again to Ethel. Could Fulvia endure that? Once his, might she not hope in time to win his whole heart? Besides, there was the question of Mr. Browning's name—of the secret to be kept on the madre's account. She tried to believe that this pressed her on; that for the sake of others she ought not to refuse Nigel. Silence lasted long; then slowly, silently, with a strange rush of warmth and chill, of joy and sorrow, of hope and dread, Fulvia placed her hand in his. CHAPTER XXV SWEET MAY-TIDE