“Never? I am glad of that,” Arthur said, his face very near to Honor’s as they leant over the stone balustrade and gazed out upon the tranquil scene. “I may hope then that, for a little while at least, the memory of this night will linger with you. It is a day that I at least shall find it very hard to forget. You smile and shake your head. Perhaps you take me for one who knows nothing of his own mind,--one whom a fresh face can stir into new and soon-to-be-changed feelings. But, Honor, listen to me--listen while we have these few moments we can call our own. I tell you that the love I feel for you is one that will defy all time and space and change. You have never been loved, my beautiful one, with such a love as this. You would tell me, were you not an angel, and too pure and good for such a world as this, that your husband--” “Hush, hush! please don’t; I cannot bear to hear you speak of him, Mr. Vavasour,--well, well, _Arthur_--I know I have been very weak and wicked; but for my own folly you would never have--have told me that you loved me; and indeed I did not mean--I--” He seized both her little hands in his strong grasp, and held them there as in a vice. “Honor,” he whispered,--and his voice trembled with concentrated passion,--“are you going to tell me that I have been a blundering fool, and that I have mistaken every look and word and smile that led me on to love you? If so,--but no, I cannot, will not think it possible. Long ago, my darling,”--and his voice softened into entreaty,--“long ago, when first I held this precious hand in mine, you might, with cold words and scanty smiles, have taught me”--and he smiled bitterly--“my place. But that you did not do, Honor: you _know_ you did not. What your motive was in leading me on to hope that I was something--a very little--more to you than a mere acquaintance, you best can say. If it were well meant on your part, all I can say is that it was cruel kindness; for it will be a hard fall down again to the place from which your gentle words and smiles had raised me. But once more, Honor, for the love of Heaven, tell me that you have not trifled with me. Do not make me lose my faith in every woman. Tell me before we part to-night that if we were doomed never to meet again you would sorrow a little, just a very little, for my loss. Tell me that sometimes, when you are alone, you think of me; tell me”--and he ventured unreproved to steal his arm round her waist--“tell me that you love me just a very little, Honor, in return for the heart’s whole devotion that I feel for you.”