"Fortunate?" Mary exclaimed. "An incident that renders my father and myself penniless!" "Yes. It prevents you becoming the wife of Horace Mayfield. Directly he hears of this thing he will turn his back on you for ever. He is too much a man of the world to waste time in idle regrets; he will look out for another to take your place. On the whole, it seems to me that Fate has been very kind to you." "Indeed." Mary's voice was very cold, her face colder still. "You seem to be glad." "I _am_ glad. I am rejoiced to find that Providence is not going to allow you to wreck your happiness and imperil your future in this way. Nothing could please me better than to see you dependent upon your own exertions for a living. You will be all the better for it; it will cleanse and purify you. And then you will discover that the best thing in the world for a good woman is a good man's love. It is my love for you, Mary, that makes me take this view of things, that impels me to rejoice in the fact that you are nearer to me tonight than you have ever been before. And some day you will own it." "Never!" Mary cried passionately. "Oh, you make me hate you, you make me forget how much I owe you. I could never become your wife." Ralph smiled. There was something very soothing in the sweetness of the night. Many a time afterward that scene rose up before his mind. "You _shall_ be my wife," he said in tones of quiet power. "The scales will fall from your eyes and you will ask me to forgive you. Oh, my dear, I know the beauty of your true nature better than you know it yourself. I can see it all before me as clearly as if I were endowed with the gift of prophecy. We all have our lesson to learn, and it is no fault of yours that the lesson has come so late. And when my confession has followed yours, we shall know the meaning of true happiness, but not before." As if he had said the final word, Ralph turned in the direction of the house. A world of passionate scorn, defiance, anger trembled on Mary's parted lips. How dare this man, how dare any man, talk to her like this? And yet at the same time the girl was fully aware of the power and masterful purpose behind Ralph's words. She was glad in her inmost heart to know that he cared for her so much. After all, Mary had her dreams of love and romance like other girls. She was dimly conscious of the sweet and tender womanhood that underlay her pride and ice. And she knew that no scorn or invective could turn Ralph from his purpose. "Very well," she said resignedly. "You are a strong man, and I am a weak woman. I daresay you imagine yourself to be paying me a compliment. But I should put that dream aside if I were you, for it is never likely to come true." "It is no dream," Ralph smiled. "Nor is the happiness so very far off. Now let me take you back to the house again, for it is getting late."