In this mutual mood the two met. It was not an amiable interview on either side. The young lover took up precisely the line of argument which was most prejudicial to him. He pleaded his faithful services--his devotion which had lasted for years. He established a claim upon Nora, which she was not the girl to put up with. And she, on her side, scornfully denied any claim he had upon her. “If that is what you call love,” said the indignant maiden, “to follow a girl about, whether she likes or not, and then to tell her she _must_ take you, to pay you for it!” This, alas, was not the way of settling their affairs! “Nora,” cried the young man, desperate, “this is the moment that’s to settle my life. It’s little matter for you, but for me it’s life or death. I’m not asking you to take me now--say a year, say even two years, I’ll be content; but I have to know. Nora, bide a moment. If you turn me away without any hope, by----! there’s the _Pretty Peggy_ sails from Anster on Saturday; I’ll go to Greenland in her, and never see you more.” “And why should I want to see you more?” said Nora. “What do I care for your _Pretty Peggy_? It will do you a great deal of good, Mr. Erskine. It will teach you that you can’t have everything your own way.” “Is this your last word, Nora?” cried the poor fellow, with glistening eyes. If she had looked him in the face, Nora’s heart would have given way. But she felt her weakness, and would not look him in the face. She stood by the table, turning over and over in her hand an Indian toy of carved ivory, with her eyes fixed upon it, as if it was the intricacies of the pattern that involved life and death; and then she said slowly, while the blood seemed to ebb away from her heart, “I have nothing more to say.” In another moment the door shut violently, and Willy Erskine was gone. The sound went through the house like a thunderclap, and threw down, with its violent concussion, the castle of cards in which Nora had been entrenching herself. She sank down upon a chair, stupefied, and listened to the step that went echoing along the street. Was he gone? Was he really gone, and for ever? Gone to Greenland in the _Pretty Peggy_, into the ice where men and ships perished, into the whaling boats where they sank and were lost for ever? Should she never see him more?