"Enough! Enough!" she cried, suddenly interrupting me. "Do not recall the past. All is too bitter, too melancholy. Every single detail of our last interview I have lived over and over again--I, who lied to you, even though my heart was breaking. Blumenthal gave me my freedom--and yet--" "And yet," I said very slowly, in a low, intense voice--"and yet you have again fallen the victim of a man's ingenious wiles. Tell me the truth, dearest. You have been entrapped--and you see no way of escape." But she only shook her head sadly, saying:-- "No, I can say nothing--not even to you, Godfrey." "Why?" I cried, dismayed. "Why all this secrecy and mystery? Surely I may, at least, know the man's name?" "That I cannot tell you." "Then he has forbidden you to reveal his real identity?" She nodded in the affirmative. "Which plainly shows that the fellow is in fear of something. He's afraid of exposure in some way or other. I will not allow you, my own dear love, to become the victim of this fellow!" I said fiercely. "He may be an adventurer, for all you know--a man with an evil past. He has, without doubt, ascertained that on your father's death Wichenford will be yours. No, Ella, I will not allow you to marry this man who forbids you to reveal his name." "But what will you do?" she cried in alarm. "What will I do? I will tell him to his face that you are mine--that he has no right to you. And you will refuse to become his wife." "Ah!--yes--but you must not do that," she declared. "Why not?" "No. I beg of you to do nothing rash," she urged in breathless anxiety, laying her hand upon my arm. "But I will not allow you--my own well-beloved--to become the wife of another!" "Godfrey," she said, in so low a voice that it was scarcely above a whisper, "you must. There is no way of escape for me." "Then you are a victim of this nameless man!" She nodded in the affirmative. "Who is he? Tell me," I demanded. "I have a right to know." "Yes, you have, indeed, a right, but I have given my word of honour to say nothing. I cannot tell his name--even to you." The mystery of it all somehow aroused my suspicions. Was she deceiving me? Had she invented this nameless lover with some ulterior object? No man can ever fathom the ingenuity of a woman who intends to deceive. "Permit me to say so, Ella, but you are not frank with me," I exclaimed reproachfully. "Why do you not tell me the whole truth, and allow me to take what steps I think proper? Cannot you realise all I feel at the thought of losing you again--for the second time? The past has been black enough, but the future for me will be even darker if I go away in the knowledge that you are the victim of a man unworthy of you. Tell me, dearest, do you doubt my love?"