He went back to her and said: "I tried to avoid this, and if you had helped me, it would never--" But he remembered how he had always despised Adam for throwing the blame upon Eve, no matter how much she may have deserved it, and continued: "No; I do not mean that. It is all my fault. I should have gone away long ago. I could not help it; I tried. Oh! I tried." Mary's eyes were bent upon the floor, and tears were falling over her flushed cheeks, unheeded and unchecked. "There is no fault in any one; neither could I help it," she murmured. "No, no; it is not that there is any fault in the ordinary sense; it is like suicide or any other great, self-inflicted injury with me. I am different from other men. I shall never recover." "I know only too well that you are different from other men, and--and I, too, am different from other women--am I not?" "Ah, different! There is no other woman in all this wide, long world," and they were in each other's arms again. She turned her shoulder to him and rested with the support of his arms about her. Her eyes were cast down in silence, and she was evidently thinking as she toyed with the lace of his doublet. Brandon knew her varying expressions so well that he saw there was something wanting, so he asked: "Is there something you wish to say?" "Not I," she responded with emphasis on the pronoun. "Then is it something you wish me to say?" She nodded her head slowly: "Yes." "What is it? Tell me and I will say it." She shook her head slowly: "No." "What is it? I cannot guess." "Did you not like to hear me say that--that I--loved you?" "Ah, yes; you know it. But--oh!--do you wish to hear me say it?" The head nodded rapidly two or three times: "Yes." And the black curving lashes were lifted for a fleeting, luminous instant. "It is surely not necessary; you have known it so long already, but I am only too glad to say it. I love you." She nestled closer to him and hid her face on his breast. "Now that I have said it, what is my reward?" he asked--and the fair face came up, red and rosy, with "rewards," any one of which was worth a king's ransom. "But this is worse than insanity," cried Brandon, as he almost pushed her from him. "We can never belong to each other; never." "No," said Mary, with a despairing shake of the head, as the tears began to flow again; "no! never." And falling upon his knees, he caught both her hands in his, sprang to his feet and ran from the room. Her words showed him the chasm anew. She saw the distance between them even better than he. Evidently it seemed farther looking down than looking up. There was nothing left now but flight. He sought refuge in his own apartments and wildly walked the floor, exclaiming, "Fool! fool that I am to lay up this store of agony to last me all my days. Why did I ever come to this court? God pity me--pity me!" And he fell upon his knees at the bed, burying his face in his arms, his mighty man's frame shaking as with a palsy.