you have a right to know more. I
told you last night that I had no fortune. To-day I tell you that I have
a portion you would never endure to receive with your wife, and which no
man shall receive with me--disgrace."

She covered her face with her hands as she said the last word, and he
could see nevertheless how the hot flush of shame rose to her forehead.
He started, and involuntarily moved a step away from her. She was
conscious of the movement, and raised her head proudly.

"How or in what way I should disgrace you," she went on, "I need not
tell you--it is enough that you are satisfied that there is a bar
between us." But he had recovered from his first surprise, and was in no
mood to be so easily satisfied.

"You are mistaken," he said. "Disgrace is a terrible word; but how do I
know that you are not frightening yourself and me with a shadow? Be
reasonable, Lucia; you are suffering, I can see. Put aside this manner,
which is so unlike yourself, and tell me what troubles you, and let me
judge."

"Oh, if I could!" she cried, with a passionate longing breaking through
all her self-restraint. She was trembling with excitement and the strain
upon her nerves; and as she felt his arm put round her, it seemed for
one second incredible that she must put its support away from her for
ever. But she conquered herself, and spoke more resolutely than before.

"It is no shadow that I fear, but a calamity which has fallen upon us. I
thought yesterday that I was not very far beneath you in birth, and that
there could be no greater difficulties in our way than patience might
overcome; but that was because I did not know. I am not your equal. I am
no one's equal in the world--no one's that I could marry. I shall be
always alone, and apart from other people in my heart, however they may
see no difference; and if I cared for you a thousand times more than I
do, I should only have a thousand more reasons for telling you to go
away, and never think of me again."

"You dismiss me, then? Of your own free will, Lucia?"

"Of my own free will."

"And you will not tell me this strange secret which has changed you so?"

"No; there is no need."

"No need truly, if we are to part in this way. But you see that there is
something romantic and unreal about the whole thing. I don't yet
understand."

"No; how should you?" she said, half to herself. "I hardly can myself."

"Let me see your mother. I will come again, though my time is sh