ve
my tardiness!'

Her surprise was increased, but she was not agitated. She seemed to
become gloomy, disapproving. 'I could not entertain such an idea at this
time of life,' she said after a moment or two. 'It would complicate
matters too greatly. I have a very fair income, and require no help of
any sort. I have no wish to marry . . . What could have induced you to
come on such an errand now? It seems quite extraordinary, if I may say
so!'

'It must--I daresay it does,' Millborne replied vaguely; 'and I must tell
you that impulse--I mean in the sense of passion--has little to do with
it. I wish to marry you, Leonora; I much desire to marry you. But it is
an affair of conscience, a case of fulfilment. I promised you, and it
was dishonourable of me to go away. I want to remove that sense of
dishonour before I die. No doubt we might get to love each other as
warmly as we did in old times?'

She dubiously shook her head. 'I appreciate your motives, Mr. Millborne;
but you must consider my position; and you will see that, short of the
personal wish to marry, which I don't feel, there is no reason why I
should change my state, even though by so doing I should ease your
conscience. My position in this town is a respected one; I have built it
up by my own hard labours, and, in short, I don't wish to alter it. My
daughter, too, is just on the verge of an engagement to be married, to a
young man who will make her an excellent husband. It will be in every
way a desirable match for her. He is downstairs now.'

'Does she know--anything about me?'

'O no, no; God forbid! Her father is dead and buried to her. So that,
you see, things are going on smoothly, and I don't want to disturb their
progress.'

He nodded. 'Very well,' he said, and rose to go. At the door, however,
he came back again.

'Still, Leonora,' he urged, 'I have come on purpose; and I don't see what
disturbance would be caused. You would simply marry an old friend. Won't
you reconsider? It is no more than right that we should be united,
remembering the girl.'

She shook her head, and patted with her foot nervously.

'Well, I won't detain you,' he added. 'I shall not be leaving Exonbury
yet. You will allow me to see you again?'

'Yes; I don't mind,' she said reluctantly.

The obstacles he had encountered, though they did not reanimate his dead
passion for Leonora, did certainly make it appear indispensable to his
peace of mind to