“I consider all. When he lay there dying, faithful, loyal, as he is, I thought I loved him and I brought him back to life. My love, worthless as it is, is precious to him, and there is one Carew who keeps her word at any cost. Speak no more to me of love. You demean yourself and me. I belong to another.” “Oh! this is madness.” Gervase cried, knowing in his heart that he could not change nor turn her. “There is no code of honour in the world to make you give your life to one you do not love. Such marriage is no true marriage. You are mine by every right, and I will not let you go.” “There was a time when I should have liked to hear you talk like that, but it will never be again. I shall give him all duty and honour, and in time, perhaps--you will help me to bear my burden, Gervase Orme, nor make it heavier for me? I see my duty clearly, and all the world will not drive me from it.” Gervase took her two hands, feverish and trembling in his own. He saw there was no need for further argument; he could not change her. “I have no gift of speech to show you what you do. Your will has been my law and I shall try to obey you utterly. God knows I loved you, Miss Carew, and still love you. But you will hear no more of me nor my importunate love; there is room abroad for a poor soldier like myself. And De Laprade is a gallant gentleman and worthy of his splendid fortune. I can say no more than that I envy him with all my heart.” He drew her to him unresistingly, and kissed her on the forehead. There was nothing lover-like in the act; it was simply in token of sorrowful surrender, and she recognized it as such. She did not dare to raise her eyes to his but kept them bent upon the ground; he could see the lashes were trembling with unshed tears. “I knew,” she said, “you would speak as you have spoken. It was my duty to see you; it is very hard. You will go now?” “I will go, Miss Carew, and I ask you to remember that through life, in good and evil fortune, you have no more loving and loyal friend than Gervase Orme, your faithful servant. Time will not change nor alter me. It was too great fortune for me to deserve it.” Before she could speak he was gone, and she heard in a dream the door close behind him. One of his gloves had fallen to the ground and was still lying at her feet. She caught it up and pressed it passionately against her bosom. She was now able to read her own heart in all its depth and fulness; standing there with her eyes fixed on the door through which he had departed, she saw the greatness of the sacrifice she had made. She felt that moment that she stood utterly alone, closed out from all love and sympathy. She had believed that she had become resigned, and that she had succeeded in mastering her feelings, but they had burst out afresh and with a fervour and passion that terrified herself. “Oh! God,” she cried, “how I love him!”