‘Can you not trust me, Beatrice? Can you not believe me, although there may be things I am unable to explain?’ ‘Why should there be anything you are unable to explain? An honourable man will not be placed in circumstances which he cannot explain to the woman he seeks to make his wife. He will not ask her to _believe_ that he acts properly; he will let her _know_ that he does so. Let me go, sir.’ She attempted to rise, but he passed his hand round her waist and detained her. ‘Now, Beatrice dear,’ he said imploringly, ‘can you not understand that there are things a man doesn’t like to talk about--secrets that he must keep for the sake of others, and not for his own sake? Everything that relates to myself you may ask me, but do not ask me to tell other people’s secrets. Don’t you understand me?’ ‘O yes,’ said Miss Assher scornfully, ‘I understand. Whenever you make love to a woman--that is her secret, which you are bound to keep for her. But it is folly to be talking in this way, Captain Wybrow. It is very plain that there is some relation more than friendship between you and Miss Sarti. Since you cannot explain that relation, there is no more to be said between us.’ ‘Confound it, Beatrice! you’ll drive me mad. Can a fellow help a girl’s falling in love with him? Such things are always happening, but men don’t talk of them. These fancies will spring up without the slightest foundation, especially when a woman sees few people; they die out again when there is no encouragement. If you could like me, you ought not to be surprised that other people can; you ought to think the better of them for it.’ ‘You mean to say, then, that Miss Sarti is in love with you, without your ever having made love to her.’ ‘Do not press me to say such things, dearest. It is enough that you know I love you--that I am devoted to you. You naughty queen, you, you know there is no chance for any one else where you are. You are only tormenting me, to prove your power over me. But don’t be too cruel; for you know they say I have another heart-disease besides love, and these scenes bring on terrible palpitations.’ ‘But I must have an answer to this one question,’ said Miss Assher, a little softened: ‘Has there been, or is there, any love on your side towards Miss Sarti? I have nothing to do with her feelings, but I have a right to know yours.’ ‘I like Tina very much; who would not like such a little simple thing? You would not wish me not to like her? But love--that is a very different affair. One has a brotherly affection for such a woman as Tina; but it is another sort of woman that one loves.’