These were the tenderest words he had ever addressed to her. His voice, practised in every transition, sank to its most melodious tones as he uttered these last words. Perhaps there is some magnetic power in such a voice. Cecil, looking up at the earnest face that was bent towards hers, felt herself subdued by some wondrous fascination, and knew that she had found her master. Had he wooed her at any other moment it might have been different; but he came to her in an interval of depression, which had subdued her courage and crushed her pride. Never had the dull stagnation of her life seemed to her so dull and hopeless as it had seemed to-day. Never had the prospect of the future appeared so utterly blank and empty. Her aunt's sermonising, her sense of loneliness, her yearning desire for some change in the routine of her profitless life, all conspired to strengthen the cause of Mr. O'Boyneville. "Cecil, are you going to send me away again?" "Suppose I do not believe in your fatalistic theory?" she asked, with a faint attempt at a laugh. "Your incredulity will not help you. What is it the Turks say? 'Kismet'--It is written. You are to be my wife, Lady Cecil. It is only a question of time, and why should we waste time in discussion? Sooner or later the hour of victory will come. Cecil, you thought me an impertinent fool when I first told you of my love; you know me better now, and you must know that I am in earnest. I have kept myself aloof from you during the last week in order to show you that I can obey you. If I disobey you in coming back to-day, it is because I obey my fate, which is stronger than you." Mr. O'Boyneville had composed this little speech during his downward journey, and was rather inclined to be proud of it. "Cecil, what is to be my answer?" For some moments Lady Cecil was silent, her head averted from Mr. O'Boyneville, her eyes looking dreamily at the fire. She was so lonely, so unprotected; and here was this man, whose intellectual power impressed her with a sense of protection and support; here was this man, whom she had scorned and rejected, once more at her side, too faithful to accept repulse, still eager to give her shelter and affection, to lift her from the dreary uncertainty of her position into woman's most fitting sphere. An hour ago, and she had felt herself so utterly friendless; and now here were the love and devotion of a lifetime lying at her feet, to be again rejected if she pleased. It seemed almost as if Providence, taking compassion upon her loneliness, had thrown this one last chance in her way. Her voice trembled a little as she answered her lover.