"I have the will," he said, and touched his breast. And his eyes passed beyond her to the familiar picture he knew so well, of Riff beyond the river, and the low church tower, and the old house among the trees. He looked long at it all, and Annette saw that his inheritance was his first thought. It seemed to her natural. There were many, many women in the world, but only one Hulver. His honest, tired face quivered. "I owe it to you," he said. She did not answer. She turned with him, and they went a few steps in silence; and if she had not been wrapt away from all pain, I think she must have been wounded by his choosing that moment to tell her that the notary had pronounced Hulver "Heevair," and that those French lawyers were a very ignorant lot. But he was in reality only getting ready to say something, and it was his habit to say something else while doing so. He had no fear of being _banal_. It was a word he had never heard. He informed her which hotel he had put up at in Ipswich, and how he had had a couple of poached eggs on arrival. Then he stopped. "Annette," he said, "of course you understood about my not writing to you, because I ought to have written." Annette said faintly, as all women must say, that she had understood. No doubt she had, but not in the sense which he imagined. "I owe it all to you," he said again, "but I shouldn't have any happiness in it unless I had you too. Annette, will you marry me?" She shook her head. But there would be no marriages at all if men took any notice of such bagatelles as that. Roger pressed stolidly forward. "I had not time to say anything the other day," he said, hurrying over what even he realized was thin ice. "You were gone all in a flash. But--but, Annette, nothing you said then makes any change in my feeling for you. I wanted to marry you before, and I want to marry you now." "Didn't they--the doctor and the notary--didn't they tell you when you saw my signature that I was--guilty?" "Yes," said Roger firmly, "they did. The doctor spoke of you with great respect, but he did think so. But you have told me you were not. That is enough for me. Will you marry me, Annette?" "You are good, Roger," she said, looking at him with a great tenderness,--"good all through. That is why you think I am good too. But the will remains. My signature to it remains. That _must_ be known when the will is proved. Mrs. Stoddart says so. She said my good name must suffer. I am afraid if I married you that you and Janey would be the only two people in Riff who would believe that I was innocent." "And is not my belief enough?" She looked at him with love unspeakable. "It is enough for me," she said, "but not for you. You would not be happy, or only for a little bit, not for long, with a wife whom every one, every one from the Bishop to the cowman, believed to be Dick's cast-off mistress." Roger set his teeth, and became his usual plum colour. "We would live it down."