"I wish the lightning of your eyes could strike me dead at your feet," he exclaimed. "It would be better both for you and me. I know it is useless to ask for that which it is not in your power to give. Your secret is known to me, Miss Winter, well hidden though it be. You love another, and you believe that he loves you in return." She opened her lips to answer, but closed them again. A lovely colour flushed the alabaster of her cheeks. Close to the bulwarks she had drawn now, and could get no farther away. He stepped nearer, and laid one finger lightly on her arm. "I heard all that passed between you and him the other evening," he said, staring straight into her eyes. "All that passed between _whom?_" gasped Ella. "Between you and that man--that Mr. Conroy--your lover. I heard his low-voiced questions and all your soft replies. You gave no scorn or contempt to him: yet am I not as good as he, and do I not love you a thousand times better?" "Let me pass, sir, this moment! How dare you insult me thus!" she cried, brought to bay. "If I could but strike him to the ground!" was her unspoken thought. "You shall go when I am ready to let you go, and not one minute before," answered Hubert. "You love this man: I know it from the way you speak to him, from the way you look at him. And he loves you--apparently. But--I beg you listen to me, Miss Winter. I have something I must say. That man is wise in his generation. He waited until your uncle was dead, and Heron Dyke yours, and then--not before, mark you--he comes with his low, honeyed words to steal away your heart. But now--are you listening?" What could she do but listen? "Dare to wed that man," he went on, "and, on the day you do so, the secret I have kept for your sake shall be a secret no longer. The world shall ring with it." "A secret for my sake!" she exclaimed in her surprise. "It would be a grand thing for this adventurer, this journalist--this newspaper hack, to become the master of Heron Dyke, would it not? _He_ thinks so. But that he shall never be." "Be silent, sir. You know not what you are saying." "Unfortunately, I know too well. Should he marry you, he will not find you the heiress he expects. He will find too late that his wife has no more title to the estates of Heron Dyke than I have; that what she holds, she holds by _fraud_. By fraud alone." "By fraud!" Anxious though she was to get away, Hubert's words startled her. "What do you mean?" "I mean this, Miss Winter. A dozen words from me, and Heron Dyke would know you as its mistress no more." "Then speak those words," said Ella, bravely. "It is your bounden duty to do so. I have no wish to keep what belongs to another." Her tone was clear and decided. She believed there was something in this: that he meant what he said. "Why should I speak them--and injure you? No. Give up this man, who cares only for your money, and my lips shall be sealed for ever."