despise."

"And am I despised?"

"I must have been so before you could have spoken of me as you did.
And I was deceived, cruelly deceived. I believed that you thought
well of me; I believed that you esteemed me."

"Thought well of you and esteemed you!" said he. "In justifying
myself before you, I must use stronger words than those." He paused
for a moment, and Eleanor's heart beat with painful violence within
her bosom as she waited for him to go on. "I have esteemed, do
esteem you, as I never yet esteemed any woman. Think well of you!
I never thought to think so well, so much of any human creature.
Speak calumny of you! Insult you! Wilfully injure you! I wish it
were my privilege to shield you from calumny, insult, and injury.
Calumny! Ah me! 'Twere almost better that it were so. Better than
to worship with a sinful worship; sinful and vain also." And then
he walked along beside her, with his hands clasped behind his back,
looking down on the grass beneath his feet and utterly at a loss how
to express his meaning. And Eleanor walked beside him determined at
least to give him no assistance.

"Ah me!" he uttered at last, speaking rather to himself than to her.
"Ah me! These Plumstead walks were pleasant enough, if one could
have but heart's ease, but without that the dull, dead stones of
Oxford were far preferable--and St. Ewold's, too. Mrs. Bold, I am
beginning to think that I mistook myself when I came hither. A
Romish priest now would have escaped all this. Oh, Father of heaven,
how good for us would it be if thou couldest vouchsafe to us a
certain rule."

"And have we not a certain rule, Mr. Arabin?"

"Yes--yes, surely; 'Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from
evil.' But what is temptation? What is evil? Is this evil--is this
temptation?"

Poor Mr. Arabin! It would not come out of him, that deep, true love
of his. He could not bring himself to utter it in plain language
that would require and demand an answer. He knew not how to say to
the woman by his side, "Since the fact is that you do not love that
other man, that you are not to be his wife, can you love me, will
you be my wife?" These were the words which were in his heart, but
with all his sighs he could not draw them to his lips. He would have
given anything, everything for power to ask this simple question, but
glib as was his tongue in pulpits and on platforms, now he could not
find a word wherewith to express the plain wish of his heart.