"No," she cried in earnestness, laying her hand gently on his arm. "Listen to reason, Mr. Chisholm. I know I have no right to speak to you like this--only the right of a fellow-creature who would prevent you from taking the rash step you contemplate. But I want you fully to realise your responsibility towards the woman who so dearly loves you." "Our love is ended," he blurted out, with a quick, furtive look at the glass upon the writing-table. "I have no further responsibility." "Has it really ended?" she asked anxiously. "Can you honestly and truthfully say before your Maker that you entertain no love for Lady Richard--that she is never in your thoughts?" Her question nonplussed him. A lie arose to his lips, but remained there unuttered. "You are thinking of that former love," she went on; "of that wild, impetuous affection of long ago, that madness which has resulted so disastrously, eh? Yes, I know. You still love Lady Richard, while she, for her part, entertains a loving thought for no other man but you. And yet there is a sad, sweet memory within you which you can neither stifle nor forget." There was a tone of distinct melancholy in her voice. "You have guessed aright," he answered in a strained tone. "The tragedy of it all is before me day and night, and it is that alone which holds me at a distance from Claudia." "Why not make full confession to her?" she suggested, after a short pause. Surely it was very strange, he thought, that she, who was little more than a mere girl, should venture to debate with him his private affairs. To him it appeared suspiciously as though she had already discussed the situation with the woman who had introduced her beneath his roof. Had they arranged all this between them? But if his madness had not blinded him, he would have detected the contemptuous curl of the lip when she uttered Claudia's name. "I have neither the wish nor the intention to confess anything," he answered. "You alone know my secret, Miss Mortimer, and I rely upon your honesty as a woman to divulge nothing." For answer she walked quickly to the table, took up the glass, and flung its contents upon the broad, old-fashioned hearthstone. "I solemnly promise you," she said, as she replaced the empty tumbler and confronted him again. "I promise you that as long as you hold back from this suicidal madness the world shall know nothing. Live, be brave, grapple with those who seek your downfall, and reciprocate the love of the woman who is both eager and ready to assist and defend you." It struck him that in the last words of this sentence she referred to herself. If so, hers was, indeed, a strange lovemaking. "No," replied the despondent man. "My position is hopeless--utterly hopeless."