He had spoken the name advisedly. It had never passed between them before. Its effect was to make her cover her face with her hands, and cry faintly and pitiably. As Falkenberg saw this sight–saw this girl crouching and weeping, and heartbroken and desperate in consequence of having been deceived and deserted by Jerome Wellfield, his heart was hot within him. He went up to her, took her hands from before her face, and as she looked at him she saw that his eyes were full of wrath, and his brow clouded with angry feeling. ‘Sara!’ he said abruptly, and almost sharply, ‘you demean yourself by this behaviour. Listen to me: answer me: You will never cast a thought to that man again. If he were at your feet to-morrow you would turn away from him, for you are no patient Griseldis. Is not this true?’ ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed, brokenly; ‘why do you ask me such questions? Do you wish to insult me?’ ‘No. I only wanted your word for what I felt to be true. Nothing–no repentance on his part would induce you to—’ ‘I will not bear it,’ she exclaimed, passionately. ‘Let me go. You have no right to—’ ‘Sara, I have no right to say any of these things to you. I know it too well. Will you give me the right–not to ask any more such questions–but to protect you and stand by you in this and every other trouble you may have? Will you leave Jerome Wellfield to reap what he has sown, and let me try to prove to you that there are men left in this world who know how to set a woman’s happiness higher than their own convenience? Will you be my wife?’ Falkenberg had once or twice tested the extent of his influence over Sara, but he had never pushed the experiment so far as this; and he felt that it was a crucial test: his power over her trembled in the balance; with her final decision now it must stand or fall. As she did not speak, but sat still, gazing at him, while he, stooping towards her, held her hands, and looked intently into her face, he went on: ‘You have been too absorbed to see that it was no mere “friendship” I felt for you. But I tell you now, that I would wait for you to my life’s end–only, I cannot keep up this show of indifference. Choose now, Sara. Promise to be my wife, or dismiss me once for all. It must be one or the other.’ ‘Oh, do not leave me here alone!’ she cried, involuntarily. ‘Then consent to what I ask. You told me once that you had faith in me, that you believed in me. Have you lost it all?’ ‘Not a jot.’ ‘Then take my word when I tell you that you shall not repent. Let me call you my wife. Give me the duties of your husband; I ask for no privileges. I will wait–wait twenty years, and never repent. Neither shall you.’ ‘But you know–you must know–I do not love you. I am not sure that I do not love him, even yet–may God help me!’ ‘Yes, I can understand it all. But decide, Sara, now–at once. Once again I give you the alternative; it depends on you whether I go or stay.’