“The result of that speech has been,” continued Pembroke, after a little pause, “that I am in public life to stay as long as I can. That means that I shall never be a rich man. Honest men, in these times, don’t get rich on politics.” A brilliant blush came into Olivia’s face at that. In the midst of suggestive circumstances Pembroke seemed determined to add suggestive remarks. “But I hardly think you could take that into consideration,” she answered, after a moment. “A man’s destiny is generally fixed by his talents. You will probably not make a great fortune, but you may make a great reputation--and to my way of thinking the great reputation is the more to be coveted.” “Did you always think so?” “Always.” Then there came an awkward pause. Olivia was angry with him for asking the first question, but Pembroke seemed determined to pursue it. “Even when I asked you to marry me on this very spot, six years ago? Then I understood that you could not marry a poor man.” “Then,” said Olivia, calmly, and facing him, “you very much misunderstood me. I did think, as I think now, that poverty is a weight about the neck of a public man. But I can say truthfully, that it was _your_ ability to cope with it, rather than mine, that I feared.” “And it seems to me,” said Pembroke, calmly, “on looking back, that I was a little too aggressive--that I put rather a forced construction on what you said--and that I was very angry.” “I was angry, too--and it has angered me every time I have thought of it in these six years, that I was made to appear mercenary, when I am far from it--that a mere want of tact and judgment should have marked me in your esteem--or anybody else’s, for that matter--as a perfectly cold and calculating woman.” She was certainly very angry now. “But if I was wrong,” said Pembroke, in a low, clear voice--for he used the resources of his delightful voice on poor Olivia as he had done on many men and some women before--“I have paid the price. The humiliation and the pangs of six years ago were much--and then, the feeling that, after all, there was but one woman in the world for me--ah, Olivia, sometimes I think you do not know how deep is the hold you took upon me. You would have seen in all these years, that however I might try, I could not forget you.” Olivia was not implacable. * * * * *