"Why did I not know this before?" he asked abruptly. "I thought you might have understood--I could not explain--the others knew," she said, in a broken voice. "Then your marriage is arranged?" "Nothing is arranged," she cried out quickly. "My uncle would not hear of it. He wanted Fabien to marry a lady who was noble, and had a large _dot_, and--there were other reasons--but this was one cause why they quarrelled. And it was after he had gone that he wrote those cruel words," she said, her voice faltering. Max rose up again, and came close to her. "My poor child," he said, "how you must have suffered!" Then, as she was going to speak, he stopped her. "Listen. I do not pretend to tell you that this has not been a heavy shock. If I had but known--but I did not know, I have been ignorant, blundering, blind. You are the first woman I ever loved, and--but I do not blame you. Therese, remember that always, there is no one to blame but myself. We will forget all this, and have no more such mistakes, only I must always be your friend. I claim it as a right." There was a world of simple manliness, of tenderness, in his voice. Therese, who had expected reproaches and bitter words, was deeply moved by it. How had she misjudged this man! She had been prejudiced, blind, to the true nobility, which lay hid behind a somewhat blunt exterior; until this moment she had recognised nothing of it. She thought how strong he was, how able to protect, to teach her; her poor little weary heart longed for such a helper, even in the midst of its clinging to Fabien. Fabien himself seemed to lose something when she compared the two. For very weariness the conflict might perhaps have ended in Max Deshoulieres' favour, if he had chosen that it should do so. "It is such a long waiting, and those were such hard words," she said, falteringly. "Foolish words," he said, with a little sad smile. "People cannot renounce so readily, even if they wish it. If you love him, do not doubt him, my child. There are plenty of reasons which may have caused his silence; he has been impetuous and foolish, no doubt, but with such an uncle there are excuses for a young man. Before long we shall hear of him, believe me." He tried to speak cheerfully. Every word cost him a stab; but for her sake the brave chivalrous heart took this added burden upon itself. Perhaps he guessed something of what she was feeling, and pitied the weakness and inexperience which found it hard to endure. With a pang he put on one side the bright visions which he had been cherishing; all that he could do now was to be her friend and helper, and that he would do faithfully. He saw her brighten under his words; she looked up gladly. "Fabien will not long stay away, when he knows I am alone," she said, with a renewal of hope. "You are sure no more can be done?"