'I am glad you are silent,' went on Edgecumbe, 'for your silence helps me. Do you know, when I came to England,--that is, when I saw Luscombe for the first time, I had no thought of God except in a vague, shadowy way. Something, I don't know what, had obliterated Him from my existence,--if ever He had an existence to me, and for months afterwards I never thought of Him. Then I went into a Y.M.C.A. hut in France, where a man spoke about Him, and I caught the idea. It was wonderful,--wonderful! Presently I found Him, found Him in reality, and He illumined the whole of my life. I read that wonderful story of how He sent His Son to reveal Him,--I saw His love in the life and death of Jesus Christ,--and life has never been the same to me since then. But something was wanting, even then; something human, something that was necessary to complete life. Then I saw you, and you completed it. 'I don't know whether men call you beautiful, or not,--that doesn't matter. You have not come into my life like an angel, but as a woman, a human woman. I know nothing about you, and yet I know everything. You are the one woman God meant for me, you fill my life,--you glorify it. You mustn't think of marrying anybody else, it would be sacrilege if you did. Such a love as mine wasn't intended to be discarded,--mustn't be,--can't be.' 'Mr. Edgecumbe,' she said quietly, 'I think we had better return to the house.' 'No, don't let us go back yet; there are other things I want to say'; and he walked steadily on. She still kept by his side,--perhaps she was not so much influenced by his words, as the way he said them, for I knew by the look in his eyes when he told me his story, and by what I felt at the recital of it, that there was a strange intensity, a wonderful magnetism, in his presence. 'I am very ignorant,' he continued presently, 'about the ways of the world. I suppose I must have known at one time, for Luscombe tells me that I generally do what might be expected of a gentleman, although sometimes I make strange mistakes. The loss of one's memory, I suppose, has a curious effect, and I cannot explain it to you. There are certain things which are very real, and very plain,--others are obscure. For example, I speak German perfectly; but until I read it a few months ago, I knew nothing of German history. Forgive me for saying that,--it has nothing to do with what I want to tell you, and yet perhaps it has. Anyhow, it makes plain certain things I do and say. You are going to be my wife----' 'Really, Mr. Edgecumbe,--please,--please----'