r new life. She knew well the sort of pride he
was capable of; but was there not something else, something she dreaded
to observe too closely, in the manner of his speech? Did he think so
meanly of her as to deem such precautions necessary against her
misconstruction? Nay, _could_ he have guarded himself in that way if he
really loved her? Would it not have been to degrade her too much in his
own eyes?

He loved her once. Had she in any way grown less noble in his eyes, by
those very things which she regarded as help and strengthening? Did he
perchance think she had too readily accepted ease when it was offered
her, sacrificing the independence which he most regarded? If so, all
the more would he shrink from losing for her his own independence.

She imagined herself wedded to him; at liberty to stand before him and
confess all the thoughts which now consumed her in the silence of vain
longing. "Why did I break free from the fetters of a shameful life?
Because I loved, and loved _you_. What gave me the strength to pass
from idle luxury, poisoning the energies of the soul, to that life of
lonely toil and misery? My love, and my love for _you_. I kept apart
from you then; I would not even let you know what I was enduring; only
because you had spoken a hasty, thoughtless word to me, which showed me
with terrible distinctness the meaning of all I had escaped, and filled
me with a determination to prove to myself that I had not lost all my
better nature, that there was still enough of purity in my being to
save me finally. What was it that afflicted me with agony beyond all
words when I was made the victim of a cruel and base accusation? Not
the fear of its consequences; only the dread lest _you_ should believe
me guilty, and no longer deem me worthy of a thought. It is no
arrogance to say that I am become a pure woman; not my own merits, but
love of you has made me so. I love you as a woman loves only once; if
you asked me to give up my life to prove it, I am capable of doing no
less a thing than that. Flesh and spirit I lay before you--all yours;
do you still think the offering unworthy?"

And yet she knew that she could never thus speak to him; her humility
was too great. At moments she might feel this glow of conscious virtue,
but for the most part the weight of all the past was so heavy upon her.

Fortunately, her time did not long remain unoccupied. As her
grandfather's heiress she found herself owner of the East-end