Both the man and the woman sat watching her as she performed this little ceremony. Dolly’s bed was on a sofa, carefully arranged with a cushion and coverlet. Tiny laid the doll down, listened, made as if she heard a little cry, bent over the mimic baby, soothing and quieting. Then she turned round to the spectators, holding up a little finger. “Gone to sleep,” said Tiny in a whisper. “Hush, hush--dolly not well, not twite well--me go and ask nursie what she sinks.” The child went out on tip-toe, making urgent little gesticulations that the others might keep silence. There was a momentary hush; she had left the door ajar, but Mr. Wradisley did not think of that. He looked with a nervous glance at the doll on the sofa, which seemed to him like another child laid there to watch. “Mrs. Nugent,” he said at last, “you must know what I mean. I never thought this great moment of my life would come thus, as if it were a boy’s secret, to be kept from a child!--but you know; I have tried to make it very clear. You are the only woman in the world--I want you to be my wife.” “Mr. Wradisley--God help me--I have tried to make another thing still more clear, that I can never more be any one’s wife.” She clasped her hands and looked at him as if it were she who was the supplicant. He, having delivered himself, became more calm; he regained his confidence in himself. “I am very much in earnest,” he said; “don’t think it is lightly said. I have known since the first moment I saw you, but I have not yielded to any impulse. It has grown into my whole being; I accept Tiny and everything. I don’t offer you any other inducements, for you are above them. You know a little what I am, but I will change my very nature to please you. Be my wife.” She rose up, the tears came in a flood to her eyes. “Be content,” she said; “it is impossible, it is impossible. Don’t ask me any more, oh, for God’s sake don’t ask me any more, neither you nor any man. I would thank you if I could, but it is too dreadful. For the love of heaven, let this be final and go away.” “I cannot go away with such an answer. I have startled you, though I hoped not to do so. You are agitated, you have some false notions, as women have, of loving only once. Mrs. Nugent--” She crossed the room precipitately in front of him as he approached toward her, and closing the door, stood holding it with her hand. “I could explain in a word,” she said, “but do not force me to explain--it would be too hard; it is impossible, only understand that. Here is my child coming back, who must not indeed hear this. I will give you my hand and say farewell, and you will never think of me again.” “That is the thing that is impossible,” he said.