"No, no!" she exclaimed. "Let me go, please, Lord Bracondale! This is madness. I refuse to hear you. Reflect--and you will see that I can never become your wife!" And upon her sweet face there spread a hard, pained expression. "But I repeat, Jean--I swear it--I love you!" he said. "I again repeat my question--Will you honour me by becoming my wife? Can you ever love me sufficiently to sacrifice yourself? And will you try and love me--will you----" "I cannot bear it!" she cried, struggling to free herself from his strong embrace, while he held her hand and again passionately raised it to his lips. "Please recall those words. They are injudicious, to say the least." "I have spoken the plain truth. I love you!" Her eyes were downcast. She stood against a large, silk-covered settee, her hand touching the silken covering, her chest heaving and falling in deep emotion, so unprepared had she been for the Earl's declaration of affection. Through her mind, however, one thought ran--the difference in their social status; he--a Cabinet Minister; and she--the widow of a thief! Recollection of that hideous chapter of her life flashed upon her, and she shuddered. Bracondale noticed that she shivered, but, ignorant of the reason, only drew her closer to him. "Tell me, Jean," he whispered. "May I hope? Now that you are leaving, I cannot bear that you should go out of my life for ever. I am no young lover, full of flowery speeches, but I love you as fervently, as ardently, as any man has ever loved a woman; and if you will be mine I will endeavour to make you contented and happy to all the extent I am able." "But, Lord Bracondale," she protested, raising her fine eyes to his, "I am unworthy--I----" "You are worthy, Jean," he declared, earnestly. "You are the only woman in all my life that I have loved. For all these years I have been a bachelor, self-absorbed in the affairs of the nation, in politics and diplomacy, until, by my accident, I have suddenly realised that there is still something more in the world to live for higher than the position I hold as a member of the Cabinet--the love of a good woman, and you are that woman. Tell me," he urged, speaking in a low whisper as he bent to her, "tell me--may I hope?" Slowly she disengaged the hand he held, and drew it across her white brow beneath her velvet hat. "I--I--ah! no, Lord Bracondale," she cried. "This is all very unwise. You would soon regret." "Regret!" he echoed. "No, I shall never regret, because, Jean, I love you!" "Have you ever thought that, while you are a peer and a Cabinet Minister, I am only a nurse?"