It was a little hard to say anything but sweet words to this, but Beauchamp persevered. "But don't you see, dearest, had it been as you thought, I could not have broken my pledge without the grossest dishonour? Perhaps you hardly understand how these things are looked upon in the world, you are so young and innocent, and perhaps a tiny little bit too romantic," here he stroked her cheek fondly, "but you will learn that there are some things men of honour _cannot_ do, not even to win such a darling as you." The crimson, hardly yet faded from the girl's face, deepened almost painfully. She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke it seemed to cost her a little effort. "I am ignorant, very ignorant," she said gently. "But there are some things it doesn't require years or experience to know. I trust you will not find me ignorant in these. Don't think I thought you capable of breaking your word--not even for me," with a little smile and an attempt at playfulness, "but I thought--" she hesitated; "I have read that even the noblest and best may be terribly drawn two ways sometimes--there may come to the best of us tremendous temptations, may there not? Could the best people ever get to be the best if they had not felt temptation more strongly than others? And then, too, though one hardly likes to say so, there do seem sometimes to come times when ordinary rules--not real right and wrong of course, but our way of interpreting them--seem to fail one; when keeping one's word in one direction would be breaking it more unpardonably in another. Oh no, no, if I could put in words what I felt for and thought of you this morning, you would see I did you no dishonour." There was a pathetic appeal in her tone as she uttered the last few words; she had said more than she intended, carried away by her subject, and the remembrance of the battle of feelings she herself had so recently fought her way through. Captain Chancellor was a little puzzled, a little annoyed, and a little surprised. It was not quite so easy to assert his superiority as he had imagined. Instinctively he sheltered himself by taking it for granted. "My darling," he said again, "don't distress yourself. Don't imagine I meant to blame you. I only meant there are things and ways of looking at things which your innocence cannot have had experience of. But this need trouble neither of us now--you will never be alone now, even in thought. You will always trust me, dearest?" "Yes," whispered Eugenia, softly, "and you will teach me all I don't know, and teach me to be better too, more worthy of you."