“Why do you speak so coldly and formally to me?” “I dare not speak otherwise.” “Mary, all my happiness in this world is bound up in you. If you do not love me, Mary, say so.” “Eugene, I do love you!” She wept in spite of all her struggles to repress her tears. “Then why do you hesitate? Say that you will be my wife.” “No; I cannot say it.” “Then you do not love me.” “It is because I love you--because I respect and reverence you--that I cannot be your wife. My conscience smites me when I think of dragging you down from your lofty height to the plane of shame and disgrace upon which I dwell.” “Mary, you are true and good. I care not what men say. Be mine; that is all I ask.” “I cannot consent to injure you so much.” “I fought your battle at the mill; let me fight it in the great world.” “Do not ask me yet.” “When will you answer me, Mary? I shall not be happy until you do.” “To-morrow--next week; but not now.” “Let it be to-morrow.” “Perhaps to-morrow.” There was a knock at the outside door. Dr. Lynch was admitted. He expressed his surprise at finding Mr. Hungerford there; if he had expected to meet him, he should have deferred his visit. “I will retire, Dr. Lynch, if you have business with Miss Kingman.” “I have business with Mrs. Buckstone, but it is a matter in which you are interested, Mr. Hungerford. You observe that I call our mutual friend Mrs. Buckstone. I do so purposely, as my errand will explain,” continued the doctor. “Of course you do not call her so without good reasons.” “Certainly not. I intend to leave town to-morrow morning, and it is necessary that I should dispose of this matter at once.” “Why do you leave town, doctor?” asked Eugene, surprised at this announcement. “I think it better for me to do so.” “But you intend to return?” “That will depend upon circumstances.” “What circumstances?” “If the people of Poppleton can be as generous towards me as you and Mr. Birch have been, I should be glad to remain, and prove the sincerity of my contrition.” “Doubtless they will be.” “Let the future determine,” added the doctor, as he took a package of papers from his pocket. “Mrs. Buckstone, if I have wronged others, I have not wronged you. I think I have been a true friend to you.” “You have, doctor; you have always been very kind to me.” “As you have doubtless heard, I sent for Buckstone to come here. I felt that it was necessary, in order to preserve your life and health, that your wounds should be healed. I have endeavored to heal them. When it was no longer possible for you to become the wife of Buckstone,--which was the purpose I had in view when I sent for him,--I endeavored to give you the means of proving the marriage which had already taken place. Mr. Hungerford, what was your opinion of the legality of that union?”