"Richard ... good Richard," she said soothingly, "believe me, I am very, very sorry for this.... I ... I vow I did not know.... I had no thought--how could I have? that you cared for me like ... like this.... You believe me, good master, do you not?" she entreated. "Say that you believe me, when I say that I would not willingly have caused you such grief." "I believe that you are the most sweet and pure woman in all the world," he murmured fervently, "and that you are as far beyond my reach as are the stars." "Nay, nay, good master, you must not talk like that.... Truly, truly I am only a weak and foolish girl, and quite unworthy of your deep devotion ... and you must try ... indeed, indeed you must ... to forget what happened under these trees to-night." "Of that I pray you have no fear," he replied more calmly, as he rose and once more stood before her--a dark figure in the midst of the dark wood--immovable, almost impassive, with head bent and arms folded across his chest. "Nathless 'tis foolish for a nameless peasant even to talk of his honor, yet 'tis mine honor, Lady Sue, which will ever help me to remember that a mountain of gold and vast estates stand between me and the realization of my dream." "No, no," she rejoined earnestly, "it is not that only. You are my friend, good Richard, and I do not wish to see you eating out your heart in vain and foolish regrets. What you ... what you wish could never--never be. Good master, if you were rich to-morrow and I penniless, I could never be your wife." "You mean that you could never love me?" he asked. She was silent. A fierce wave of jealousy--mad, insane, elemental jealousy seemed suddenly to sweep over him. "You love someone else?" he demanded brusquely. "What right have you to ask?" "The right of a man who would gladly die to see you happy." He spoke harshly, almost brutally. Jealousy had killed all humility in him. Love--proud, passionate and defiant--stood up for its just claims, for its existence, its right to dominate, its desire to conquer. But even as he thus stood before her, almost frightening her now by the violence of his speech, by the latent passion in him, which no longer would bear to be held in check, the bank of clouds which up to now had obscured the brilliance of the summer sky, finally swept away eastwards, revealing the luminous firmament and the pale crescent moon which now glimmered coldly through the branches of the trees. A muffled sound as of someone treading cautiously the thick bed of moss, and the creaking of tiny twigs caused Richard Lambert to look up momentarily from the form of the girl whom he so dearly loved, and to peer beyond her into the weirdly illumined density of the wood.