‘Yes! you may laugh, but it will not unmake the fact. I love you, Jenny, as no one of your admirers has ever loved you yet, love you with the fire and fervour of a disappointed man, of one who knows, and has known for years past, that his love is of no avail, that it lives without hope, but still lives, burning on--loving on--because it can never die even if it would, because it would not die even if it could. Oh! my darling! I have loved you for years. Just give me one look of pity at last.’ But Jenny recoiled from him with a shudder of disgust. ‘How dare you! how _dare_ you!’ she panted; ‘and you pretend to be my friend, you, a married man. Oh! you have made me feel that I have sunk low indeed.’ Her look of horror and her tone of contempt stung Hindes more than a dozen lashes from her hand would have done. ‘Married!’ he exclaimed; ‘what has that to do with a man’s feelings? Am I blind, deaf, insensible, because I am married. And what about your fine scoundrel over there? You imagine he loves you. Yet, what is he? A married man, and worse than a married man, a thousand times over, for he has left a poor girl who is, to all intents and purposes, his wife, and a child who has the right to call him father, to break their hearts, and perhaps to starve down at Luton, whilst he is philandering after you. Ah! that has touched you, has it?’ he continued almost savagely, as he saw Jenny’s cheeks flush. ‘Well! it is the solemn truth, as I can prove to you. And she is not the only one either. Ask Philip Walcheren! You are one of many, Jenny, though you may wear the wedding-ring upon your finger.’ ‘You lie!’ cried the girl vehemently; ‘I am sure you lie, and I will tell my husband every word you say, and he shall punish you for them. You want to frighten me, that is all--you are jealous of my great happiness. I have always suspected you were double-faced, and now I know it. And I hate you--I hate you. And I love my husband as much as I hate you, and nothing shall ever separate us, try as hard as you may. We will be together and together and together, until death.’ She turned, in all her beauty with a mocking smile upon her lovely face, towards him as she spoke, and stepped backwards towards the edge of the cliff. Henry Hindes’ first impulse was to catch her by the wrist to prevent her falling over. But she wrenched it from his grasp. ‘Don’t dare to touch me, you brute!’ she cried excitedly. ‘You want to push me over the cliff now, I suppose!’