“You shall not leave here,” said the woman. She drew herself up—she was tall and slender. “You shall not leave here until our wedding day is fixed. Luke, what day will you marry me?” He gave a shudder, and this time it was perceptible. An ugly expression crossed the woman’s face, and the red scar became visible even under the cloudy mass of hair. She raised her hand impatiently and pushed back the hair. As a nurse, she always wore it smooth and plain, and in its fluffy condition it worried her. “I keep you to your bargain,” she said. “You promised to marry me if I did what you required.” “And, of course, I keep my word,” he answered. “But why speak of marriage just now? We can surely wait for a short time.” “We cannot.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that you are to marry me.” “Did I not say I would?” “Oh, Luke, if you could but love me! Luke, bad as I am, I would make you a good wife. Bad as I am, I could be good to you. After all, are we not both outcasts? Are we not both separated from the rest of the world by the crime we have committed?” “Hush!” said the man. His face looked ghastly. “How dare you talk like that? There are subjects which even between man and wife”—his lips trembled—“must not be alluded to. I did what I did because—Heavens! we cannot talk of it!” “We need not talk of it, but you _know_ what we both have done.” “I won’t listen to you. What is it you want? There are things which upset the strongest man’s nerves. You, Clara, are coarse. You are not a lady; you have been trained in hardness; you have no highly-strung nerves. It is terrible to be highly educated. It brings torture.” “Aye, I can guess that. You had best make me your wife. I can keep those disordered nerves of yours in check. When the time comes, I shall know how to soothe you.” “What do you mean?” “I may not tell you now. After you have married me you will not regret it. When is the wedding day to be?” “When do you wish for it?” “First, Luke, answer me one question. Have you the very slightest love for me?” “Do you want me to tell the truth or a lie?” “Oh, what folly this is!” cried the woman. “A lie! I should soon detect it. The truth, man, and nothing else.” “Then this is the truth—I do not love you.” “I thought as much. Luke, when is our wedding to be?” “You make a proposal, Clara, and I will see if I can yield to it.” “We can be married by special license,” she said. “Special license! Why throw away fifty pounds?” “We can be married by special license,” repeated Nurse Ives; “so the wedding can take place this day week.” “So soon!” said Tarbot. “Impossible!” “It is not impossible, Luke. Do you consent?” “I must if you wish it; but it must be quite private.” “We will go to church on the morning of this day week, and afterwards we can go for a fortnight’s honeymoon.” “It would be very awkward my leaving London just now.” “Awkward or not it must be done. You can get a _locum tenens_.”