"Forgive me. You would if you knew all. I felt that you had come to meet him, and I was tortured with these jealous doubts, but I would not believe, and I came, as you saw. And now, Claire, one word--my love!" Her eyes half closed as he drew her towards him; her lips trembled, and her colour went and came. Then, as if her memory, that had been veiled for the moment, tore aside the film of forgetfulness, she thrust him from her, and, with a look of anguish in her eyes, started to her feet. "No, no!" she cried with a shiver; "it is impossible!" "Hush! don't say that," he whispered. "Claire, I could not bear it. I know I am not well-to-do, but I love you. I cannot offer you a rich home, but I give you a love that is wholly yours. Don't--don't refuse me--don't make me think that you despise me." "No, no, it is not that," she sobbed wildly. "You must not speak to me. It is impossible." "Impossible?" he cried, holding her hands tightly. "Yes, impossible." "No," he said with a quiet smile, "it is not impossible. You will grow to the knowledge by-and-by that there is one who lives for your sake, whose every thought is yours, and these little obstacles will melt away when you know me as I am. Claire, I only ask for a little hope--to go away with the thought that I have no rival for your love." "Don't speak to me--don't think of me again!" she cried, with a wild look in her face. "Heaven bless you, Mr Linnell! Think well of me, whatever comes, but all that is over now." "Over? No, no; don't say that. Claire--my love!" He still held her hands in his, and as their eyes met her lips quivered, and her sweet face was drawn with anguish. It was a hard fight, but she conquered, and tearing herself away, she crossed the stile, and he saw her with bent head hurrying towards her home. "It is impossible--impossible," he muttered, as he stood leaning against the stile. "No; she may say that a thousand times, but I shall hold to my faith, and this affair will give me strength." He walked slowly homeward, dreaming for a time of Claire's anguished face, and then the sight of a uniform brought back the thought of the Major, and the punishment he had received. "Will he resent it?" he asked himself. The answer was awaiting him later on at home, where he encountered Cora Dean just going out for a drive. The pony-carriage was at the door, and there was nothing for it but to hand the ladies in, Mrs Dean receiving the attention with a most ungracious look, while Cora smiled and looked flushed and pleased as she drove off, with Sir Harry Payne, in Colonel Mellersh's room, watching her with admiring eyes. "Won't be long, you know. Very kind of you to see me about it; as it's his father he lives with," said Sir Harry. "Handsome woman that, Colonel. Precious unfortunate, all this. I say, how lucky you were at the tables last night. Very handsome woman that. Ever act now, do you know?"