"Why?" he repeated. "For the reason I have already told you, and for another. Think of my position! A struggling engineer--an artisan, some of your people would call me, I daresay; for I am not yet at the top of my tree by any means, nor likely to be so for many a long day to come. The only home I can offer my wife is an unattractive one enough--you know what sort of a place Wareborough is--is that the home _you_ are suited to? You, beautiful, courted, admired; spoilt by every sort of rule you should be, but I don't think you are. I am not exactly poor, certainly, but I am not rich, and there is hard work before me for years to come. There now, Miss Eyrecourt, you know the whole. I have great reason to be sanguine of success, have I not?" "And this is all?" she said. "You have told me every one of the `insuperable obstacles?'" "Every one," he replied. "Don't torture me, Roma." She held out both her hands; she lifted up her beautiful face and looked at him with tears in her large soft dark eyes. "Oh, Gerald," she said at last, when the two hands were pressed closely in his, when she felt his gaze of almost incredulous joy fixed upon her with eager questioning; "Oh, Gerald, how could you mistake me so? `Spoilt,' am I? Ah no, or if so, not by the excess of love that has been lavished on me. I have been very lonely; it is years and years since I have known what it was to have a home--a real home. Even had I not loved you, I confess to you the temptation of _your_ love, your strength and protection, would have been great to me. You don't know what to me would have been the mere thought of having some one I could perfectly trust. But as it is, I needn't think of temptation. I love you, Gerald. I would rather have your `poor battered old heart' than anything in the universe. And if this makes amends for the dilapidated state of yours, I can assure you that mine, such as it is, is quite whole. I give it to you entirely, without the slightest little chip or crack." She had begun to speak with the tears in her eyes; as she went on, notwithstanding her half-joking tone, they dropped--one, two, three big tears. She pulled away one hand to dash them aside, but Gerald caught it, kissed it tenderly and gratefully, and held it fast again. "Roma," he said, "you and your heart are far too good for me. My darling, how shall I ever repay the sacrifices you will make for me? Are you sure, quite sure, you will never repent it? Have you considered it all? Think of having to live at Wareborough." "Gerald, you are too bad! Do you know you have all but driven me into proposing to you? I shall think _you_ repent your bargain if you say much more. Living at Wareborough! Nonsense. I should be quite pleased and content to live in a coal mine with _you_. There now, I am not going to spoil you by any more pretty speeches, which, by rights, sir, please to remember, should come from the other side."