'Not yet,' he replied. 'In a few minutes I shall have finished. I did not expect you to be as patient as you have been, and I thank you. But if you _have_ any thoughts about Springfield, you will give them up. He is no fit mate for you; he is as far removed from you as heaven is from hell.' At this she spoke passionately. 'You doubtless have forgotten many things,' she said, 'and one thing is that one gentleman never speaks evil of another.' 'I say what I have to say,' he replied, 'because life, and all it means, trembles in the balance. I do not pretend to know anything about Springfield, although I have a feeling that his life and my life have been associated in the past, and will be again in the future. But let that pass. You may be fascinated by him, but you can never love him,--you simply can't. Your nature is as pure as those raindrops, as transparent as the sky. You love things that are pure and beautiful,--and that man's nature is dark and sinister, if not evil. There is only one other thing I have to tell you, then we will return. You see,' he added, 'I am not asking you to promise me anything, or to tell me anything,--I only want to tell you. I suppose I am about thirty years of age, I don't know; how long ago it was that I lost my memory I can't tell; but my friend Luscombe tells me that perhaps, when I was younger than I am now--that is in those days which are all dark to me--I loved some woman and married her. Of course I didn't. But even when I have won a position worthy of you, and when my name shall be equal to yours, I will never think of asking you to wed me until even all possibility of suspicion of such a thing is swept aside. I thought it right to tell you this; how could I help it,--when the joy that should fill your life, the light which you should rejoice in, are all the world to me?' 'Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said, 'you are my father's guest, and--and--I want to think only kind thoughts of you,--but please drive away these foolish fancies.' He laughed gaily. 'Foolish fancies! Is the sun foolish for shining? Are the flowers foolish for blooming? No, no; I love you,--I love you, and day and night, summer and winter, through shine and through storm, my one thought will be of you, always of you, and then, in God's good time, you will come to me, and we shall enter into joy.'