"I have seen—I could not help seeing—" she went on, after he returned to his seat. "That last day especially, before my illness, when you came back from thinking Ethel drowned! I am not fancying—one does fancy such things! You love Ethel, and Ethel loves you, and I have kept you apart! Padre did not mean to be cruel when he was dying, but he was cruel. He had better have left us alone. People do such foolish things sometimes, don't they? I did not know till lately how Ethel has cared; at least, I was not sure. But that day—when she thought herself near to death—one could not mistake her look when she spoke of you! I have thought a great deal in my illness. And I know that I must do this. I know that I cannot keep you two apart, just for my own sake." Nigel spoke at last in resolute voice, breathing hard, "This does not touch the real question. I have devoted my life to you." "In payment of my £40,000!" she said, with an odd sorrowful smile. "No; that would be over-payment—or worse than no payment, if we were not happy. And it does touch the real question; for if I will not have you—" "But if you are promised to me, Fulvia?" Fulvia lifted her eyes, which had drooped. A light shone in them, "If you wished it—wished to hold me to my word," she said. "Promised; yes! But you cannot claim my promise, if you cannot give the love I have a right to ask! Yes, you love me as a brother. Is that enough? Nigel, you are very true, and I may trust you. I do trust you—utterly! Tell me in plain words—don't be afraid to speak out, only tell me—do you love me or Ethel best?" Nigel made no response. "Tell me! I will know! One word only! Ethel—or Fulvia! Which is it? Which is dearest to you?" Still he did not speak. Fulvia leant forward, searching his face. "Ethel—or me! Which?" "Is there need for this? Is it right?" asked Nigel slowly. "Can you not trust me, when I say that my life shall be yours?" "I would trust you for the life, but not for the love," she said. "You can promise the one; you cannot promise the other. Only love of a kind, at least, a poorer sort. Think—have pity!—Could you marry one who loved another more? Can you ask it of me? Yes, I was willing once—madly willing; but I have learnt better. Now that my eyes are opened, would you force it upon me still? And all from a mistaken notion of honour? You see, I understand. Would you have me sacrifice your happiness and Ethel's, for the sake of a happiness which would not be mine? How could it be? If you can say that you love me most—first—best of all—then I will still be yours! If not—! Tell me—truly—do you love Ethel or me? Which most?" Nigel spoke the one word at last, as if it were dragged from him, his voice husky, and even faint, "Ethel!" Fulvia said nothing. She could not have been taken by surprise, yet the shock overcame her. Perhaps she had never entirely given up hope till now. Nigel was the first to speak.