"No," she sighed. "I have never doubted it, Godfrey. I know how passionate is your affection; that you love me truly and well. Yet it is all to no purpose. We have met again, it is true, and under the strangest circumstances. It would almost seem as though Fate has brought us together, merely in order to tear us apart. For us, Godfrey, there, alas! can be no happiness," she added sadly, with a deep-drawn sigh. "Why not?" For a few moments she did not reply. I repeated my question, again kissing the cold lips. "Because--because," she faltered, "I am compelled to marry this man." "He is compelling you, eh?" I asked, between my teeth. "Yes." "And may I not stand as your champion? May I, who love you so dearly, extricate you from this trap?" She shook her head slowly. "It is not a trap, Godfrey," she answered. "Rather call it force of circumstances. Those who told you I was dead lied to you, while I, hearing nothing from you, naturally concluded that you had forgotten. Therefore it is best for us to part again at once--to-night--for the memories of the past are to us both too painful." "Part from you, Ella!" I cried. "Never--never. You must be mad. While you breathe and live I shall remain near you as your friend, your protector, nay, your lover--the man who loves you better than his own life!" I declared, taking her small hand and raising it reverently to my lips. "It is cruel of you, darling, to suggest us parting." "No, it is the more merciful to both of us. We must part--so the sooner the better." "You told me this on that never-to-be-forgotten night in London," I said reproachfully. "Therefore I cannot think that you are now in earnest." "I am, Godfrey," she declared quickly. "I do not deny to you that I love you, but love between us is debarred. I am unhappy--ah! God alone knows what trials I have borne--what horrors have been mine to witness-- and now to fill the cup of my grief I have met you only to find that you still love me," she cried hoarsely, in a voice broken by emotion. I held her trembling hand, and again kissed her cold, hard lips. But she drew herself from me firmly, saying in a low, broken voice, full of pathos:-- "No, Godfrey. Let us say good-night here. Let both of us go our own way, as we have done before; both of us, however, now confident in each other's love, even though our lives lie far apart. Remember me only as an unhappy woman who, through no fault of her own, is prevented from becoming your wife. Think of me still as your Ella of the old sweet days, and I will remember you, my Godfrey--the--the man I love. I--" But she could utter no further word, for she burst into a flood of bitter tears. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. INTRODUCES MR GORDON-WRIGHT. Next morning, after a night of dark reflections, spent at the dormer window of the village inn, I called at the Manor House as early as the convenances would permit.