"I will not, Grace! I love you! I love you, I tell you!" "You do not, sir!" and she struggled still more fiercely. "Do not deceive yourself! Me you cannot deceive! Let me go, I say! You could not demean yourself to love a poor girl like me!" Utterly losing his head, Tom ran on with passionate words. "No, sir! you know that I am not fit to be your wife: and do you fancy that I--" Maddened now, Tom went on, ere he was aware, from a foolish deed to a base speech. "I know nothing, but that I shall keep you in pawn for my belt. Till that is at least restored, you are in my power, Grace! Remember that!" She thrust him away with so sudden and desperate a spasm, that he was forced to let her go. She stood gazing at him, a trembling deer no longer, but rather a lioness at bay, her face flashing beautiful indignation. "In your power! Yes, sir! My character, my life, for aught I know: but not my soul, Send me to Bodmin Gaol if you will; but offer no more insults to a modest maiden! Oh!"--and her expression changed to one of lofty sorrow and pity;--"Oh! to find all men alike at heart? After having fancied you--fancied you" (what she had fancied him her woman's modesty dare not repeat)--"to find you even such another as Mr. Trebooze!" Tom was checked. As for mere indignation, in such cases, he had seen enough of that to trust it no more than "ice that is one night old:" but pity for him was a weapon of defence to which he was unaccustomed. And there was no contempt in her pity; and no affectation either. Her voice was solemn, but tender, gently upbraiding, like her countenance. Never had he felt Grace's mysterious attraction so strong upon him; and for the first and last time, perhaps, for many a year, he answered with downcast eyes of shame. "I beg your pardon, Miss Harvey. I have been rude--mad. If you will look in your glass when you go home, and have a woman's heart in you, you may at least see an excuse for me: but like Mr. Trebooze I am not. Forgive and forget, and let us walk home rationally." And he offered to take her hand. "No: not now! Not till I can trust you, sir!" said she. The words were lofty enough: but there was a profound melancholy in their tone which humbled Tom still more. Was it possible--she seemed to have hinted it--that she had thought him a very grand personage till now, and that he had disgraced himself in her eyes?