emember," he said, with the same self-assertive bearing,
"that I have never been a rich man, that my mother spent my father's
savings on a score of public objects, that she and I started a number of
experiments on the estate, that my expenses as a member of Parliament
are very large, and that I spent thousands on building up the _Clarion_.
I have been ruined by the _Clarion_, by the cause the _Clarion_
supported. I got no help from my party--where was it to come from? They
are all poor men. I had to do everything myself, and the struggle has
been more than flesh and blood could bear! This year, often, I have not
known how to move, to breathe, for anxieties of every sort. Then came
the crisis--my work, my usefulness, my career, all threatened. The men
who hated me saw their opportunity. I was a fool and gave it them. And
my enemies have used it--to the bitter end!"

Tone and gesture were equally insistent and strong. What he was saying
to himself was that, with a woman of Marcella's type, one must "bear it
out." This moment of wreck was also with him the first moment of
all-absorbing and desperate desire. To win her--to wrest her from the
Cravens' influence--that had been the cry in his mind throughout his
dazed drive from the House of Commons. Her hand in his--her strength,
her beauty, the romantic reputation that had begun to attach to her, at
his command--and he would have taken the first step to recovery, he
would see his way to right himself.

Ah! but he had missed his chance! Somehow, every word he had been saying
rang false to her. She could have thrown herself as a saving angel on
the side of weakness and disaster which had spoken its proper language,
and with a reckless and confiding truth had appealed to the largeness of
a woman's heart. But this patriot--ruined so nobly--for such
disinterested purposes--left her cold! She began to think even--hating
herself--of the thousands he was supposed to have made in the gambling
over that wretched company--no doubt for the "cause" too!

But before she could say a word he was kneeling beside her.

"_Marcella_ I give me my answer!--I am in trouble and defeat--be a
woman, and come to me!"

He had her hands. She tried to recover them.

"No!" she said, with passionate energy, "_that_ is impossible. I had
written to you before you came, before I had heard a word of this.
Please, _please_ let me go!"

"Not till you explain!"--he said, still holding her, and roused to a