Pamela made no answer. She bent forward and leaned her face in her hands and broke into bitter weeping. In a moment he was beside her. He took her in his arms, and drew her head down to his breast, and held her so, still sobbing, with her face hidden in her hands. Tenderly he kissed the bright hair. "Poor little woman!" he said. She clung to him, sobbing and weeping in his embrace. "Oh! I can't," she wailed... "I can't." Again the light of victory shone in the man's eyes. He held her more closely. "No," he said; "we couldn't do it... Never to meet again! ... We couldn't do it, dear." She drew back from his embrace and, seating herself in the chair, continued to weep hopelessly. He fell on his knees beside her. "I'm a brute to have brought this on you," he muttered. "But I loved you so... Dearest heart, say you forgive me." He caught her wrists and pulled her hands from her face and kissed the tear-drenched eyes. "Pamela, my darling, forgive me. I meant no harm to you. I never meant you to know." She regarded him with brimming eyes. "Oh! I wish," she said, "that I didn't love you so well." He kissed her hands. He had won in this first struggle. With patience, he told himself, he would recover the whole ground. For an hour Pamela remained with him, talking the matter threadbare. Arnott did most of the talking; Pamela listened, acquiescing by her silence to much that he urged in his own defence, occasionally interrupting him, more occasionally disputing a point. Gradually he worked round to the subject of their future relations. On this point Pamela was more difficult. She held views of her own in regard to that; and the discussion at times took a bitter tone. He pleaded, he argued eloquently, he even offered concessions. He was patient and displayed a tender consideration which moved her to a corresponding tenderness, but did not shake her resolve. They were still at cross purposes when, heavy with fatigue and misery, she arose and announced her intention of going to bed. The discussion, he recognised, would have to be postponed to some future time. This exasperated him; he left that the delay minimised his chances of victory. Further wrestling with her conscience might confirm her in her resolution, would inevitably make persuasion more difficult. Ultimate victory depended largely on his success in wearing down her scruples before they had time to harden into a conviction of duty. He eyed her resentfully, and bit his lip to keep back the sharp words of reproach which came to his tongue. The puritanical strain in the composition of a good woman was the most baffling factor to cope with; the element of passion became a weak, a futile argument against its frigid strength. "You are punishing me heavily, Pamela," he said. She turned towards him slowly. Her sad eyes dwelt for a long moment on his face and then looked deliberately away.