“Surely no man ever had so good a heart as you!” she cried. “You are ready to sacrifice yourself--I mean you are ready to forego all the pleasure which our meeting, as we have been in the habit of meeting for the past four years, gives you, for the sake of seeing me on the way to happiness--or what you fancy will be happiness.” “I am ready, my dear child; you know what the sacrifice means to me.” “I do,” she said after a pause. “I do, because I know what it would mean to me. But you shall not be called to make that sacrifice. I will not marry Colonel Gwyn.” “Nay--nay--do not speak so definitely,” he said. “I will speak definitely,” she cried. “Yes, the time is come for me to speak definitely. I might agree to marry Colonel Gwyn in the hope of being happy if I did not love some one else; but loving some one else with all my heart, I dare not--oh! I dare not even entertain the thought of marrying Colonel Gwyn.” “You love some one else?” he said slowly, wonderingly. For a moment there went through his mind the thought-- “_Her heart has led her astray once again._'” “I love some one else with all my heart and all my strength,” she cried; “I love one who is worthy of all the love of the best that lives in the world. I love one who is cruel enough to wish to turn me away from his heart, though that heart of his has known the secret of mine for long.” Now he knew what she meant. He put his hands together before her, saying in a hushed voice-- “Ah, child--child--spare me that pain--let me go from you.” “Not till you hear me,” she said. “Ah! cannot you perceive that I love you--only you, Oliver Goldsmith?” “Hush--for God's sake!” he cried. “I will not hush,” she said. “I will speak for love's sake--for the sake of that love which I bear you--for the sake of that love which I know you return.” “Alas--alas!” “I know it. Is there any shame in such a girl as I am confessing her love for such a man as you? I think that there is none. The shame before heaven would be in my keeping silence--in marrying a man I do not love. Ah! I have known you as no one else has known you. I have understood your nature--so sweet--so simple--so great--so true. I thought last year when you saved me from worse than death that the feeling which I had for you might perhaps be gratitude; but now I have come to know the truth.” He laid his hand on her arm, saying in a whisper-- “Stop--stop--for God's sake, stop! I--I--do not love you.” She looked at him and laughed at first. But as his head fell, her laugh died away. There was a long silence, during which she kept her eyes fixed upon him, as he stood before her looking at the floor. “You do not love me?” she said in a slow whisper. “Will you say those words again with your eyes looking into mine?” “Do not humiliate me further,” he said. “Have some pity upon me.” “No--no; pity is not for me,” she said. “If you spoke the truth when you said those words, speak it again now. Tell me again that you do not love me.”