"When you are once my wife I will teach you to care for me. Such love as mine must create a return." "You think that now; you feel sure of it. But suppose you failed! No drawing back. It is too dangerous an experiment." "I defy the danger. I will not believe that it exists; and even if it did--still I should have you." "Yes, that is just it," she says, wearily. "But how would it be with me? I should have you, too, but--" Her pause is full of eloquence. "Try to trust me," he says, in a rather disheartened tone. He is feeling suddenly cast down and dispirited, in spite of his determination to be cool and brave, and to win her against all odds. To this she says nothing, and silence falls upon them. Her eyes are on the ground; her face is grave and thoughtful. Watching her with deepest anxiety, he tells himself that perhaps after all he may still be victor--that his fears a moment since were groundless. Is she not content to be with him? Her face--how sweet, how calm it is! She is thinking, it may be, of him, of what he has said, of his great and lasting love for her, of-- "I wonder whom Roger will marry now," she says, dreamily, breaking in cruelly upon his fond reverie, and dashing to pieces by this speech all the pretty Spanish castles he has been building in mid-air. "Can you think of nothing but him?" he says, bitterly, with a quick frown. "Why should I not think of him?" says Dulce, quite as bitterly. "Is it not natural? An hour ago I looked upon him as my future husband; now he is less to me than nothing! A sudden transition, is it not, from one character to another? _Then_ a possible husband, _now_ a stranger! It is surely something to let one's mind dwell upon." "Well, let us discuss him, then," exclaims he, savagely. "You speak of his marrying. Perhaps he will bestow his priceless charms on Portia." "Oh, no!" hastily; "Portia is quite unsuited to him." "Julia, then?" "Certainly not _Julia_," disdainfully. "Miss Vernon, then? She has position and money and so-called beauty." "Maud Vernon! what an absurd idea; he would be wretched with her." "Then," with a last remnant of patience, "let us say Lilian Langdale." "A fast, horsey, unladylike girl like that! How could you imagine Roger would even _look_ at her! Nonsense!" "It seems to me," says Stephen, with extreme acrimony, "that no one in this county is good enough for Roger; even you, it appears, fell short." "I did not," indignantly. "It was I, of my own free will, who gave him up." "Prove that to him by accepting _me_." "You think he wants proof?" She is facing him now, and her eyes are flashing in the growing twilight. "I do," says Stephen, defiantly. "For months he has treated you with all the airs of a proprietor, and you have submitted to it. All the world could see it. He will believe you _sorry_ by-and-by for what has now happened; and if he should marry before you, what will they all say--what will you feel? What--"