"Honour," he repeated; "my honour!" Then, "Which way, which way?" he cried. She thought that he would say, "You do this from hatred to our house, because we turned our backs on you, that day at Lyndwood Holt," but his next words took her by surprise. "By what right," he asked, "do you come to me--by what right do you put me in this position?" She found at once her answer. She knew her winning card, and instinct told her the moment for playing it, for, lie or no, this was what she had come to say. "Because I love you," she said, and knew not if it was the truth. In the pause that followed she saw that her speech had had all the effect, and more, that she could have hoped, or dreaded, or desired. She saw the shock drive the blood into his face, saw him put out his hand as if to stop her--open his lips and stand dumb. "You must have known," she said. He could not speak. He thrust back the pomaded curls from his flushed forehead and stared on the ground; she felt herself swept into the position of conqueror, felt herself in full measure repaid. "You wooed and won me," she breathed. "You _made_ me love you, I--it cannot happen twice, words are so foolish--but you must understand that I gave myself to you, and you cannot dare reject me now, only, I am at your mercy." "No," he answered, lifting his head. "I am at yours--what do you want with me?" His expression frightened her, but she clung to her advantage. "Take me away. Do I ask so much? I pleased you once." "Lavinia," again he used her name naturally, "if you ask me this, if you so appeal to me, if you tell me I am bound to you, I will." His tongue failed him, he put his hand over his distracted eyes; a burst of genuine feeling, passion maybe, brought her swiftly to his side. "Say you care for me, Marius. I could have been happy with you, or having never met you been happy; but you do not tell me," she touched his sleeve, "that you are even sorry." He turned his face from her. "What my life has been!" she whispered, drawing closer. "Marius, you cannot think of those trees in the Luxembourg and not say you are sorry." A groan broke from him. "Rose is a villain!" "Take me away," she repeated intensely. She put her hot palm over his hand that rested on the spinet. Neither spoke nor looked at each other; both gazed at the blue night showing through the uncovered window, and the spray of creeper quivering in the rain. "I have been wrong," he said at last; "but I can die to expiate it. I can go to my lord----" She caught his meaning and thrilled to it. She had done something at last; the Earl, laughing now with Miss Trefusis, would know that she was not so insignificant, and--but a cloud, a sudden darkness seemed to overspread her brain, her surroundings assumed a ghostly unreality, she found herself wondering what had happened, why she was here; who this was standing motionless beside her. "Marius!" she shrieked. "I am going mad!" He turned fiercely and caught her by the arm.