"Let them think!" exclaimed Franklin desperately. "It's my only chance. Let them think I am offering you myself once more--my love--all of me, and that I mean it now a thousand times more than I ever did before. I can't do without you! It's right for us both. You deserve a better life than this. You, a Beauchamp, of the old Virginia Beauchamps--good God! It breaks my heart!" "You have answered yourself, sir," said Mary Ellen, her voice not steady as she wished. "You mean--" "I am a Beauchamp, of the old Virginia Beauchamps. I live out here on the prairies, far from home, but I am a Beauchamp of old Virginia." "And then?" "And the Beauchamps kept their promises, women and men--they always kept them. They always will. While there is one of them left alive, man or woman, that one will keep the Beauchamp promise, whatever that has been." "I know," said Franklin gently, "I would rely on your word forever. I would risk my life and my honour in your hands. I would believe in you all my life. Can't you do as much for me? There is no stain on my name. I will love you till the end of the world. Child--you don't know--" "I know this, and you have heard me say it before, Mr. Franklin; my promise was given long ago. You tell me that you can never love any one else." "How could I, having seen you? I will never degrade your memory by loving any one else. You may at least rely on that." "Would you expect me ever to love any one else if I had promised to love you?" "You would not. You would keep your promise. I should trust you with my life." "Ah, then, you have your answer! You expect me to keep my promises to you, but to no one else. Is that the honourable thing? Now, listen to me, Mr. Franklin. I shall keep my promise as a Beauchamp should--as a Beauchamp shall. I have told you long ago what that promise was. I promised to love, to marry him--Mr. Henry Fairfax--years ago. I promised never to love any one else so long as I lived. He--he's keeping his promise now--back there--in old Virginia, now. How would I be keeping mine--how am I keeping mine, now, even listening to you so long? Take me back; take me home. I'm going to--going to keep my promise, sir! I'm going to keep it!" Franklin's heart stood cold. "You're going to keep your promise," he said slowly and coldly. "You're going to keep a girl's promise, from which death released you years ago--released you honourably. You were too young then to know what you were doing---you didn't know what love could mean--yet you are released from that promise. And now, for the sake of a mere sentiment, you are going to ruin my life for me, and you're going to ruin your own life, throw it away, all alone out here, with nothing about you such as you ought to have. And you call that honour?" "Well, then, call it choice!" said Mary Ellen, with what she took to be a noble lie upon her lips. "It is ended!"