"Some day, if I tried with this before me, I might be in an honourable position; you cared a little to write to me, did you not? It might be all honest and worth while, and splendid, Susannah." She rose, shuddering. "I fear you have mistaken me, Marius. I--I can be no help to you." He gripped the top of the settee. "Do you mean that?" he leant towards her. "I speak like a fool, I know; but I am trying to tell you." "Marius!" she entreated, overwhelmed, surprised, in no way moved with anything save pity. "Please do not say anything more now." Again came his desperate passionate question. "Do you not understand me? I want you--some day when I am not penniless--to be my wife." Susannah made an effort over herself; her own emotions were in no way touched, but she was desperately sorry and a great deal startled; always she had considered him as very young. "I have never thought of this, Marius," she said simply, pale as was he, but composed. "And I am honoured that you should care; but ah! my dear, you do not quite mean what you say." He coloured furiously. "By Heaven, I love you." She looked away. "I hope you do not mean that," she answered, "because----" He half laughed. "Because you do not care for me?" "Not in that way, Marius," she said gently. He put his hand to his brow in a dazed way. "Then it is over, impossible?" "Yes." Miss Chressham was still not looking at him. "And I am sorry, oh, very sorry!" "Is there not a chance, some day?" His tone was piteously incredulous. But Susannah, strengthened by an intense and hidden feeling, answered with a finality calm to cruelty. "No, I could never, Marius; I beg of you not to speak of this again. If I have hurt you I am grieved; but it is impossible." Silence followed, and now she ventured to look at him; he stood quite still, frowning, with downcast eyes; the fire and flash had died from his demeanour, which was that of a man utterly humiliated. Susannah sickened at herself for having had to repulse him, what he had offered was something she might have been proud to accept, and a sense of guilt stole into her heart. Marius was speaking, quietly. "Forgive me, it was all my fault, I had no right to presume." Remorse flushed her face, since he was taking it so well. "I would give anything it had not happened," she murmured. "It shall not recur;" he straightened himself and moved from the settee. "I was a fool--when does a man meet such fortune as I hoped for? Forget it, and good-night." He smiled, giving her the sudden impression of someone older, and weightier, and turned towards the door. Impulsively she held out her hand, then, seeing his instant flush, withdrew it. "Good-night," she murmured. "Good-night, Susannah."