She paused and gazed at him helplessly, laying her hand upon her brow. "You ought not to have been alone," he said, earnestly. "But tell me-- you were not thinking of that--" He pointed with a shudder to the sea that whispered and hissed below where they stood. "I don't know," she sighed, still in the same dazed way. "I came, and it seemed to draw me towards it. I am so weary--so tired out." He caught her in his arms, and held her head down upon his shoulder, as he whispered in a voice deep with emotion: "Weary, my poor girl, weary indeed. Now rest there, and, heaven helping me, half your trouble shall pass away. For I love you, Claire, love you with all my heart, and I too have suffered more than I can tell." She made no resistance to his embrace, but sighed deeply, as if he was giving her the support she needed in her time of weakness; but his heart sank within him as he felt how helpless and dazed she was. She yielded to him, but it was not the yielding of one who loved, neither was there a suggestion of caress in her words. He knew that she was half distraught with the suffering that had fallen to her lot; and holding her more tightly for a moment, he pressed his lips once reverently on her forehead, and then drew her arm through his. "I will take you back," he said. She looked up at him, and a pang shot through his breast as he realised how weak she had become. "Yes," she said at last, "you will take me back." "And, Claire, are the clouds between us to pass away for ever now?" he whispered, as he held her hand. "Clouds?" she said, as she seemed to comprehend him now. "No: they can never pass away. Mr Linnell, I am ill. I hardly know what I say." "Then trust me," he said. "I will take you back." "Yes--if you will," she said vacantly. "I have been so ill. I hardly know--why I am here." "But you understand me, Claire?" he said softly. "Yes: I think I understand you." "Then remember this," he said. "You have shrunk from me, and there has been a terrible estrangement through all your troubles; but, mark this, Claire Denville, I love you. Let me say those simple words again, and let their simplicity and truth bear them home to your heart. I love you, as I always have loved and always shall. You will turn to me, dearest, now." "It is impossible," she said gravely, and she seemed moment by moment to be growing clearer. "But I love you," he pleaded. "And they ask for my love and help," she said, with a sudden flash back into the full power of her intellect. "My poor suffering father--my sister--my wounded brother. Can you not see that there is a social gulf between us too?" "No," he said, drawing her to him, and once more kissing her brow. "I only see the sweet, true woman who has been a martyr--I only see my love." She did not speak for a few moments: and then the vacant manner returned somewhat, as she said to him, laying her hand upon his arm: