"No right at all, I suppose, in one sense of the word, nor does he profess to do so," was Maria's grave reply. "But one thing he has a right to do: to think of me and of my welfare. Don't you see that, Philip?" Philip fumed and frowned, and slashed at an unoffending nettle with his cane. They had been walking slowly onward in this unfrequented lane, where they were free to talk without observation. "Am I to consider our engagement at an end?" demanded Philip, after a few moments' silence. "There has been no engagement, as you are well aware," returned Maria in a low voice. "_You_ know quite well what I mean. Am I to look upon it that all is at an end between us?" "Papa says so. He thinks it will be best so." "And you, Maria?" A moment's pause; then in a very low voice: "I think as papa thinks. You know I _must_, Philip." Again they walked slowly on, without speaking. Presently Philip resumed: "That I have been thoughtless and foolish, I have already admitted to you, Maria; but I verily believe that matters would never have gone so far with me had there been an engagement between us. I should then have had something definite to look forward to--some hopeful end to work for. As it was, what you said to me at our last interview seemed to take the heart out of me: it did, Maria. You would not even let me write to you. I seemed to lose my anchorage altogether." "But oh, Philip--is not that a very weak confession to make?" "It is. I grant it." "And after all your promises." "I have not forgotten them. The truth is, Maria," he burst out passionately, "you are the only person in the world who can save me from myself. When I am with you I am strong; when I am away from you I am as unstable as water. Were you my wife, you could mould me as you would: were you even my promised wife, I should be a very different man." Maria had no words at command, but she gave him a glance out of her tearful eyes which conveyed a world of love and tenderness. "I will make no more promises," continued Philip, with a bitter laugh. "In my case they only recoil on my own head. I will abide by your father's behest for the present, and keep at a distance. But only for the present, mind. I shall still look upon you as my future wife. Nobody can deny me that much." Maria sighed. She felt that he was not meeting this trouble quite right, on the whole. "Wait a little while, Maria, and you shall see what you shall see. I hope to be able to prove both to you and your father that--but, no, I said that I would make no more promises," he abruptly broke off again, "and I will not."